The Winter Demon
by RobotRollCall
Summary: The creature that stalks the snowy woods is many things-unseen, unknown, and said to eat men's souls. The doctor that lives in the farmhouse is many things-kind, tired and out of her depth. And the man who comes out of the forest is many things-but Rory Williams is no longer one of them.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is set in Series Seven, some time between the dinosaurs and the Angels. As much as I would love it if the Doctor and the Ponds were all mine, the usual disclaimers apply, nothing belongs to me, etc., etc. Sigh._

* * *

It had always been a creature of the dark and of the cold. It had always been patient. Patience was important when one drifted in the dark spaces, but if one waited long enough, effort would always be rewarded. Even here, in the confinement, the rewards came. It had been difficult at first, the entrapment, bound to a world of stone and earth and so much searing light and warmth. But it found the dark. It found the cold. And it waited. And once again, it was rewarded. Once again, they came. Unable to drift as it once did, it soon learned to call them. It called and they came, and what was freedom compared to that? There was no longer a need to seek, not when they came so easily, and tonight was no different. Another one was coming. Another one stumbled, lost in the woods, and soon would arrive. And so it would wait. And then it would feed.

* * *

Dr. Sara Branton sighed as she shut the ledger in front of her with a satisfying thud. Another day finished. She rubbed a hand across her tired eyes. Derron would be back from the Capitol tomorrow. Keeping up with the patients here was work enough, and she was more than ready to return the running of the farm to her brother.

Her eyes snapped open at the sharp knocking at the door. She didn't realize she had shut them. A glance at her watch told her it was a quarter to nine—awfully late for visitors. She crossed the room and opened the door to find Tony Greystone, one of the farm mechanics, standing on the dark front porch.

"My apologies for the hour, mum," he said. "But I was on my way home—I'd been late in the barn, fixin' some of the machinery and time got away from me, so I took a shortcut home, and, well…I found him wandering at the edge of the moor." As he said this last, he plucked at the arm of a figure Sara hadn't noticed standing behind him in the dark, pulling him forward into the light.

"Oh no," Sara said, her face falling as she took in the vacant, unseeing stare of the young man at Greystone's side. "Not another one."

"Afraid so, mum," he said gravely.

Sara drew a hand across her mouth. "It's been a week since the last one," she said in a tired voice. "I had hoped…" She shook her head. "I'd hoped that might be the end of it for the year." She bit her lip. "It's gone on longer than last year, hasn't it?"

Greystone nodded. "Only last year I was saying the same. Gets longer every year, it seems."

Sara nodded, turning to study the young man. He hadn't moved since Greystone had pulled him forward. She lowered her head slightly to look into his eyes. "Hello," she said kindly. The man did not respond.

"Haven't had a word out of him," Greystone said.

"Still in shock, probably," Sara said. She put a hand up to the man's face. "And no wonder, the poor thing's freezing! Bring him on in here by the fire. And you too, Greystone," she added, noticing the slight quiver in her friend's jaw line. "You'll not be going out again at this hour, I should think."

"Much obliged to you, mum," Greystone said gratefully. "It's bitter cold out, and I don't fancy a long walk after this," he said, nodding towards the other man.

"Of course," she said. She took the stranger's arm from Greystone and pulled him a few steps forward, shutting the door and bolting it. "I'll see to him. Dahlia's still cleaning up in the kitchen—I'm sure she can find you something to eat. Would you ask her to send something in for him too?"

"Of course," Greystone nodded. "If I might give the wife a ring first?"

"Oh yes, do. You know where the phone is?"

Greystone nodded and made his way towards the hall. As Sara steered the stranger toward the sitting room, she caught snatches of Greystone's reassurances. "…No worries, I'm alright, love…Found another one out on the moor, the doctor reckoned I should stay in…Don't you worry, I'll be home tomorrow…"

Once in the sitting room, Sara gently guided the young man to a chair by the fire. His expression hadn't changed, and he allowed himself to be steered along complacently, showing no sign that he was aware of what he was doing, how cold he was, or even that someone was touching him. Once he was sitting, Sara knelt in front of him, taking a small penlight from the front pocket of her scrubs and flicking it back and forth in front of his eyes. He showed no response to the sudden brightness, and the reaction of his pupils to the light was worryingly slow.

She sighed and slipped the light back into her pocket. Standing, she checked carefully over his head for injuries, though she knew she wouldn't find any. She smiled ruefully to herself at the thought of wishing for a patient with a head injury. At least that, she knew how to fix. But no, his head was fine, and barring a few dirty scratches on his palms, there wasn't a mark on him. She ran all the usual checks trying to get a reaction—loud snapping behind his ear, checking into his eyes, sticking his finger with something sharp…He didn't even blink when she took a blood sample and the needle pierced his skin. Just like all the others. Judging by his lack of reaction to anything, it must not have been long since it happened. (How was it that after all these years, no one still knew what 'it' was?) Sometimes they were talking again when they were brought to her, and he would again too, she knew. Probably not until tomorrow, though. It always took several hours.

She sighed and closed her eyes, opening them again at the creak of a door. "Aunt Sara?" Dahlia began, backing in through the swinging door from the kitchen as she carried a tray. "Mr. Greystone said you wanted some food in here, but I thought…" She turned. "Oh no. Is it another one?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But it's almost February!" Dahlia protested. "It's got to be too late!" Her eyes pleaded with her aunt's as if by saying it aloud, she could make it true.

"It's been getting later every year," Sara said sadly, taking the tray from her niece and setting it on the end table by the chair. She sighed again. "I don't know if you remember—you were probably too small, but there was a very cold winter, the coldest we'd had in decades."

"Was that the year the pipes iced over and burst in the barn?" Dahlia asked. "I remember the water on the floor turned to ice and whole sections of the floor fell down into the cellar from the weight."

"Yes, it was that year," Sara answered. "That was the year it all started happening later. Before that, you'd never see it happen after Christmas. Ever since I was a little girl, it had been that way. But then ten years ago, it just started happening later and later, creeping into the new year, and it's still going."

Dahlia shook her head sadly. "It's awful." She looked at the man sitting on the chair. "Do you think anybody's looking for him yet?"

"I don't know, love." She put an arm around her niece and hugged her, kissing her on the top of the head. "Go on upstairs and get some sleep, alright? It's getting late."

Dahlia nodded, hugged her aunt and headed for the stairs. "Don't you stay up too late either," she said, trying for her usual smile and managing at least a ghost of it.

Sara turned back to the man on the chair and sat down on the footstool to study his face in the flickering firelight. He looked so young! It was always worse when they were young. So much life ahead of them…He still had life ahead of him, of course, but nothing like what he might have done. She swallowed down a lump in her throat as the firelight caught something on his hand and sparkled. A wedding ring. Dahlia was right, it was awful. Maybe whoever wore the mate to his ring would find their way here, but even if they did, they wouldn't really find what they were looking for.

She reached up a hand and gently cupped the side of the young man's face. "I'm so sorry, love," she said quietly. "Truly I am." Reaching for the bowl that Dahlia had brought, she blinked back the tears that prickled in the corner of her eye. People kept telling her that that was what made her a good doctor, because she still cared so much after all these years, but sometimes she wished it would just stop hurting.

Feeding soup to someone who isn't aware you're doing so is not an easy job, but Sara had had plenty of practice. By the time she had finished, the man's eyelids were starting to droop—always a good sign. She wouldn't have to drug him to get him to sleep, and by the time he woke up in the morning he should have come around—well, at least enough to start working out where to go from there. Carefully, she led him from the chair to a nearby sofa. He sank down heavily, and she pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and tucked it in around him. He blinked once, and she thought she saw a small spark of awareness in his dark eyes before they fluttered shut.

"Poor dear," she said softly, brushing back a lock of his sandy hair. She stood and made her way toward her room, detouring to the kitchen to drop off the tray. As she drifted off to sleep, the man's face floated across her mind, along with all the others she had seen. Dark eyes, blue eyes, ginger, sandy-haired or black, young and old, men and women…All of them lost, all of them broken, and so many of them still here…

* * *

Amy hugged her arms tightly to herself and pulled her jacket in a little tighter as the wind picked up. She was sitting on a stone wall along a country road. It felt like she'd been sitting under the greying sky for hours, though she knew that was more the cold talking than anything else. In reality, it had been about twenty minutes, but she was cold, she was anxious, and seriously, could the Doctor take any longer?

She swung her head around to shout to where the TARDIS was nestled in a bunch of trees. "Oi! Time Lord! How about going a little faster, hey?"

The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS and gave her a stern look. "You know, if you're cold, you could come back inside. I told you this might take a bit." He pulled back in and shut the door.

Amy sighed, gave one last longing look down the road, and hopped off the wall. Once back in the TARDIS, she couldn't help an appreciative sigh at the welcome warmth. The Doctor looked out from behind the console. "Also, if you're cold, you could put some trousers on," he said, flicking his eyes down to her leggings and mini skirt. "It is snowing out, you know."

Amy opened her mouth to argue, realized he had a point, and stomped off to her room. A few minutes later she was back, a good deal warmer in a pair of fitted blue jeans. "Don't you say 'I told you so'," she snapped, pointing a warning finger at the smug look on his face. "Are you finished yet?"

He sighed. "Amy, I did say this was going to take some time. It's very tricky."

"But why?" demanded Amy. "I mean, if people on Earth can track someone down with a cell phone, I don't see why it's so hard for you to do it. I don't see why he won't just pick up, either," she finished, mostly to herself.

The Doctor looked up to see the pleading stare Amy was giving her mobile, put down his spanner and sidled over to put an arm around her shoulder. "There's some kind of electro-magnetic interference covering this planet. From what I've been able to tell, it's natural—something in the rocks—and that's what's keeping the phone from working. Rory probably isn't even getting your calls, so of course he can't answer them." He squeezed her shoulder, hoping his words were as encouraging as his intent. "And that's why it's so hard for me to lock on to any sort of signal."

Amy sighed. "I know. But even if he's not getting the calls, why isn't he here? It's been a day, Doctor, he should have come back."

After they had landed yesterday, the Doctor had noticed the odd electro-magnetic energy and had wanted to examine it further. He'd needed some equipment from the TARDIS, and Rory had volunteered to go back and fetch it, as he'd been wanting to go back and get a thicker coat anyway. That was the last they'd seen him.

Once they realized he was missing, they'd searched the surrounding woods, but with no luck. They continued searching farther into the night than was probably safe, given that they were on a strange planet, but still nothing. Amy had been phoning him relentlessly, but with no answer. The Doctor had tried assuring her several times that the phone probably wouldn't work. This morning, they had set out to search again, asking in a nearby village they found at the edge of the wood. When he hadn't turned up there either, the Doctor had suggested returning to the TARDIS so he could work on whatever he was building now that was supposed to help them find Rory's phone.

"Just because he's not back doesn't mean he's necessarily in trouble," the Doctor tried to assure her. "He may have just gotten lost. He does that sometimes."

"Oi!" Amy said, smacking him in the chest.

"Well, he does," the Doctor said defensively, backing away a few steps.

"Strange new planet, easy to get lost. Besides, it's not nearly as bad as the Lord of Time and Space who can never land us where he means to!" Amy snapped. "As I believe I've mentioned before, this place looks an awful lot more like Scotland than it does a space station orbiting a dying star!"

"Okay, that's fair," the Doctor admitted. "I did miss. But please stop shouting at me." He stepped over and took her hands. "We'll find Rory. I promise."

Amy took in a deep breath. "Sorry. I just…"

"I know," he said. "I'm worried too." He hugged her, pulling away quickly as his tracking contraption dinged. He studied it eagerly for a moment, then frowned up at the ceiling. "That's the best you can do?"

Nothing moved, but Amy could feel the TARDIS grumbling in her head.

"Yes, yes, alright, sorry," the Doctor said, waving an apologetic hand at the ceiling. "I know it's messing up your sensors too, old girl." He glanced at the monitor. "Come along, Pond!" he said, grabbing Amy's hand. "We'd better get a move on before it gets dark again."

"Where are we going?" she asked as he dragged her to the door, snatching her coat off the coat rack.

"Well, the TARDIS couldn't give me an exact location—all that interference is bothering some of her equipment, but she was able to give us a general direction. There's a town a couple of miles up this road, and she said he's somewhere in that area. Or at least his phone is, and I don't know why he wouldn't be with it."

"Well, let's go then!" Amy said, rushing out the door ahead of the Doctor.

* * *

Of course, by the time they reached the town, the sun had nearly set, and the townspeople seemed oddly reluctant about being out after dark.

"Well, it is winter," the Doctor said again. "No one likes being out in the cold and the dark."

"They could be a little more helpful," Amy grumbled. She looked around. The streets were well-paved, lit at regular intervals with gas-burning street lamps. The same gas-lamps shone through windows lining the streets as people pulled their curtains shut against the dark. It all looked rather…Victorian, Amy decided. A little old-school, sure, but it was a very large town and it was barely after dusk—the streets shouldn't have been this empty just yet.

"We are strangers," the Doctor reminded her. "Look, let's try this place up here." He nodded toward what looked like some sort of inn. "Nice public place, and we need somewhere to stay the night anyway. If he's not there, we'll be right here in the middle of town, ready to start first thing in the morning."

Despite the voice in Amy's head that shouted she needed to find Rory _now_, she couldn't argue with the Doctor's point. And it was really cold. They stepped into the inn and were promptly greeted by a teenage boy with a broom.

"Good evening," he said, a bit overly stiffly. "Can I get you a table?" he asked, gesturing to the dining room behind him where a small group of people was spread out among the tables.

"In a minute," the Doctor said. "Actually, what we're after is a room." He glanced at Amy. "Two rooms," he amended. "We need two rooms."

The boy's face lit up and the stiffness dropped away from his voice. "Of course! Right this way, sir," he said, leading them to a small desk. He pulled two keys out of a drawer and handed them to Amy, pushing a book toward the Doctor. "If you'd put down your names, sir, I'd be much obliged." The Doctor nodded, scribbled something in the book and pushed it back. "Is it just the one night you'll be paying for, sir?"

"Oh, payment. Right," said the Doctor patting absently at his pockets. "What sort of currency do you use around here?"

The boy's eyes narrowed. "That's an odd sort of question."

In her head, Amy groaned. Of course things were going to get difficult now. She hadn't seen any signs that the people of whatever planet this was had got as far along as space travel, and she really didn't want to spend all the time it was going to take explaining aliens to them. At least she was wearing her trainers—better for running away in case they ended up getting chased by people with sticks.

"Well, we're from a long way off," explained the Doctor, clearly thinking along the same lines as Amy.

"Got to be a pretty long way," the boy said. "Not knowing something like that." His eyes widened suddenly. "Are you from off-world?"

The Doctor blinked in surprise. "Um, yes, actually. Landed here by mistake, you see, so I'm not really sure what planet this is."

The boy smiled widely. "Wow! Oh, it's been ages since anyone from off-world's been through here! The planet's called Denara," he explained. "I guess if you weren't meaning to come here, you wouldn't have any dentrix on you. That's the local stuff," he added.

"It would seem not," the Doctor said.

"We do take Imperial Shillings," the boy said.

The Doctor stuck a hand into one of his bigger-on-the-inside pockets and pulled out a handful of coins, dropping them to the tabletop with a loud clatter. "Imperial Shillings, hm? Which empire would that be? I've got…let's see," he began, sorting through the mound of coins. "Nodurni Empire—you wouldn't want those, Roman Empire, Silexi Empire, Ottoman Empire, and another one…and another one…We haven't been to the Ottoman Empire, have we?" he asked Amy. "Why do I have so many of these?"

The boy's eyes widened as he took in the pile of coins. They were various sizes, colours and metals, some had holes in them, some didn't, and there was one that appeared to be made out of bone. "You must travel a lot," he said, picking up a translucent green coin and holding it up curiously to the light. "It's the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire."

"Ah!" the Doctor said. "Lovely! I do have some of those. Oh, that's a good Empire," he added, turning to Amy. "Much better than the First—far too militaristic—and they're much nicer people here than the Third, which was quite pompous—"

"Doctor," Amy cut him off, a slight warning growl in her voice. "You're doing it again."

"Right. Sorry. So, how much is it?" he asked the boy who was staring at him, slightly bemused.

"Well, two rooms would be twenty dentrix, so that's…" he trailed off, counting on his fingers. "Fifteen Imperial Shillings."

"Very good," the Doctor said, picking out three largish silver coins with a starburst on them.

"Thank you sir," the boy said, setting down the green coin and sliding the three coins into an old-fashioned register. "Those are quite cool-looking. Oh yeah, here's your change," he finished, handing the Doctor three small bronze coins.

He dropped them in with the others and scooped the whole pile into his pocket. "Um, Doctor," said Amy. "Shouldn't you keep those separate? Since we might be needing them while we're here?"

"This is the pocket I keep the coins in," he said, pointing to his pocket. "I can't very well put them anywhere else, can I?" he asked, a touch condescendingly. "Now then, me old son," he said, turning to the boy. "…Er, what's your name, anyway?"

"Jason, sir," said the boy. "My dad runs the place."

"Ah. Right, well, Jason," the Doctor began again. "I was wondering if you could help us find someone."

"A man called Rory," Amy cut in. "Rory Williams."

"Don't know the name, miss" Jason said. He flipped through the sign-in book. "He's not staying here, either. Is he from off-world too?"

"Yeah," the Doctor said. "We came in together and then got separated."

"He's about so tall," Amy said, holding her hand up to approximate Rory's height. "And he's got sandy brown hair, dark eyes—"

"Big nose," the Doctor cut in.

"Well, I've not seen anyone like that about," said Jason. "But, then I haven't been looking before now. He's not in there, at least," he added, nodding towards the dining room. "But there's some other inns in town. He might be at one of them."

"Is there any way you can check?" Amy asked.

"Not tonight, miss," Jason said. "Mudslide this morning took out some poles and wires and things—phones aren't working. But I can take you around in the morning, if you'd like." He smiled. "My dad won't mind—not if it's helping a customer."

"We could go out and check them ourselves," Amy suggested.

"Oh no, miss," Jason said, shaking his head. "Not now it's dark out."

"What's wrong with the dark?" Amy asked.

"It isn't safe."

The Doctor's eyebrows quirked up. "Not safe? Why's that, then?"

"The Demon, sir," Jason said, matter-of-factly. "It's a bit late in the year for it, but people are saying it's still about," he added, as if this explained it.

Before the Doctor could ask him to elaborate, Jason was called away by his father and rushed off, promising to find them again in the morning. "The Demon, eh?" the Doctor mused, heading for a table with Amy.

"Let's focus on finding Rory first, hmm?" she reminded him. "Then we can worry about the Demon."

Although, lying in bed later that night, Amy found it very hard not to worry about the Demon. Whatever it was, it sounded bad—and it was always bad, wasn't it?—and Rory was still out there. She sighed deeply, and didn't sleep well at all for the second night in a row.


	2. Chapter 2

Amy woke up early the next morning. Somewhat to her surprise, her room came with a shower, and after fiddling with a couple of knobs and cranks, she was even more surprised to be greeted with hot water. She had a good wash, felt a bit better, dressed and crossed the hall to the Doctor's room and entered without knocking.

"Don't you knock?" he asked, looking up from a book he was reading by the fire and not sounding terribly perturbed.

She sighed, rapped her fist against the open door and shot him a 'happy now?' look. "There. Now come on, get up! Let's go find Rory."

He got to his feet, tucking his book into a jacket pocket. "It's a bit early yet, but let's go and see if we can find our young guide."

Amy sighed. "Can't we just go and look for him, Doctor? Do we really need the kid?"

"I'm sure we could manage just fine without him," the Doctor said as they descended the stairs. "But it never hurts to have a guide."

Amy grunted, but said nothing. She knew she was just being irritable because she was worried and hadn't slept well, and she really didn't mean to take it out on the Doctor. New topic, then. "So, Jason said something about the phones not working last night," she began. "How do they have phones that work?"

As they passed the front desk, the Doctor pointed to the wall behind it at what looked like a very old-fashioned phone. "They seem to get around the electro-magnetic problem by using phones that aren't electric. You'd probably call them primitive, but they get the job done. Well, except when the lines get knocked down."

Amy nodded, thinking about the gas lamps and the shower in her room and beginning to understand. "Is that why everything around here is so…steampunk?"

The Doctor laughed. "Well, that's an interesting choice of words, but yes." He sat down at one of the tables in the empty dining room and Amy joined him. "This is the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire, which makes it at least the 31st Century. Plenty of space-faring people and technology about. Most of it wouldn't work here, so the people—colonists, at some point, I would imagine—adapted."

"Good morning, sir, miss," Jason said, rushing up to their table carrying a tray of food. He began to lay dishes and utensils out in front of them. "Ready to go and find your friend? Dad says I'm free to go with you just as soon as you're done eating. Just come and knock on the kitchen door when you're ready." Before they had time to respond, Jason dashed back to the kitchen.

The Doctor smiled. "Awfully excitable, isn't he?"

A short time later, the three of them stepped out into the street. The day was rather greyer than the previous one had been, and the wind still had a bite to it. Jason led them toward the main street, chatting eagerly, though Amy wasn't really listening. The town turned out to be even larger than she had thought last night, and now that the sun was out, the roads were getting rather crowded. They wove their way through men and animals pulling carts along the street, and dodged carriages and small children. Amy thought it would have been very easy to mistake this place for Victorian England if not for the occasional steam-powered vehicle passing by. And maybe the way people were dressed. Oh, and that guy over at the blacksmith's who was…green.

By midmorning, they had been to all of the inns in town. No luck in finding Rory, or anyone who had seen him. "Well, that's the last of them," Jason said as they stepped back out into the weak sunlight. "Sorry we can't seem to find him—you're sure he's in town somewhere?"

"Well, we thought he was," the Doctor said. He consulted his sonic screwdriver and the readings the TARDIS had taken. "He should be. Is there anywhere else here we might look?"

Jason tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, it's not exactly in town, but there is Moorside."

"What's that?" Amy asked.

"It's a farm just outside of town, miss," Jason said. "Round on the side of the moor. It's usually a good place to look for lost people."

"Well, let's try that then," the Doctor said, a bit too cheerfully. Amy could tell he was starting to worry, but didn't want to let on. He looked up the street to where the road led out of town. Beyond the houses, Amy could see a patch of grassy moor. "Just the other side of that moor?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes sir," Jason answered. "But you don't want to go across it. I'll show you the road around."

"Why can't we just cross it?" Amy asked, somewhat impatiently. As they walked out of town, she got a better view of the moor, and it looked quite large. Cutting straight across had to be quicker.

Jason shook his head urgently. "Oh no, miss, we can't do that. It's not safe at all," he insisted.

"We could walk carefully," Amy suggested, an edge in her voice.

"Oh, it's not the terrain, miss," Jason said. "It's the Demon. That's where it lives. We'll do much better going around."

"Again with the Demon," the Doctor said, unable to stop a curious smile. "What Demon would that be?"

"Sorry, sir, I keep forgetting you're from off-world. I suppose you wouldn't know," Jason said. "It's the Winter Demon."

"Interesting. Tell us about it," the Doctor said. He turned to Amy. "Not forgetting about Rory, but we've got a bit of a walk. We may as well."

Amy nodded. She didn't want to admit it right now, but she was curious too.

"Well, the Winter Demon lives out there on the moor," Jason began. "At least, people say it does. No one really knows, as no one's ever seen the thing. But the moor is where they all turn up."

"Who?" asked Amy.

"The victims, miss," Jason said. "It eats men's souls." As they walked on, Jason kept talking. It seemed the colonists had discovered the Demon on their first winter, and every winter thereafter, there were more lost, soulless people found wandering the moor. Most of the time they came from nearby towns and villages, but sometimes they were from farther away. Since no one knew what it looked like or how it travelled, people were always wary in the winter. During other seasons it didn't come out, though they tended to avoid the moor out of habit.

"There it is," Jason said, pointing as they rounded a bend. A large sign, weather beaten but cheery enough welcomed them to Moorside Farm. Iron gates hung open in a stone wall, and Amy could see a large farmhouse inside, with vast fields stretching out behind it. "Come on," Jason said, passing through the gates. "We can ask up at the house."

The Doctor knocked briskly at the door of the farmhouse. No one answered, so after a moment, he knocked again. This time, they heard a harried voice calling from somewhere back in the house. "I'm coming, I'm coming! Hang on!" There were rushed footsteps, and the door swung open suddenly to reveal a frizzy-haired teenage girl, slightly out of breath. "Oh, um, hello," she said, looking from the Doctor to Amy. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, Dahlia," Jason said with a smile.

"Jason! Hi," Dahlia said, her cheeks going a bit pink as she put up a hand in an attempt to straighten her dark hair.

"This is the Doctor and Amy," Jason said. "They're looking for someone."

"Oh," Dahlia said, her face getting a bit more serious. "You'll be wanting to talk to Aunt Sara, then. Come on in. She's upstairs with a patient right now, but she'll be down in a minute." The three of them followed Dahlia into a sitting room where a welcoming fire blazed on the hearth. The Doctor and Amy took a seat, and Dahlia returned to the kitchen, followed by Jason.

Just as they settled down onto a sofa, a middle-aged woman in a white coat came down the stairs, stopping at the bottom in surprise when she saw the two of them. "Oh! Hello," she said.

"Hello!" the Doctor said warmly, jumping up from the sofa to shake her hand. "I'm the Doctor. This is Amy. Sorry if we startled you. The young girl…um," he pointed back at the kitchen door.

"Dahlia," Amy said.

"Yes. Dahlia," the Doctor recovered. "She let us in. Told us to wait for 'Aunt Sara'."

"Oh," the woman said. "Well, that would be me. Doctor Sara Branton." She shook Amy's hand then crossed to a desk by the door. "I'm sorry," she began, flipping through a book. "Things were a bit mad around here until yesterday—I was trying to keep the farm and the clinic going…" She gave up on the book and turned back looking slightly sheepish. "Did you have an appointment that I forgot to write down?"

"No, no," the Doctor assured her. "We're actually looking for someone, and we were told to check here."

Dr. Branton nodded slowly. "I see." She sat down in the chair opposite Amy and straightened her glasses. "Who are you looking for?"

"My husband," Amy said quickly. "His name is Rory Williams—"

Dr. Branton held up a hand. "I'm sorry," she said, not unkindly. "I'm afraid names aren't much use around here."

"Why not?" Amy demanded. She was really getting fed up with this whole search.

Dr. Branton tilted her head thoughtfully as she looked at the two of them. "Don't you know?"

The Doctor cut in before Amy could answer. "All we were told was that this was a good place to find lost people," he said.

"And you don't know what that means?"

Something in the Doctor's eyes suggested he had an inkling, but didn't want to say it. "We're from off-world, you see, so we don't really know much about this place. I gather it has something to do with the Winter Demon?"

"It does that, yes," Dr. Branton said. "Off-world? Really? That makes this rather more complicated." She paused thoughtfully for a moment. "What do you know about the Winter Demon?"

"Not a lot," the Doctor admitted. "And what we've been told was no doubt embellished for dramatic effect, but the gist seems to be that it eats men's souls."

"Well, that's putting it a bit poetically," Dr. Branton said, her face turning serious. "But basically, yes. The people who it takes are people who have lost everything—their names, their memories, their experiences—everything that makes them who they are. I guess you would call it a soul. They come here and we care for them—help them find their way back into the world again. But as I said, they've lost everything," she said, turning to Amy with a sad smile. "So you can see why names aren't of much use. If your husband is here—and I hope to heaven that he isn't, dear girl—but if he is, you'll have to tell me what he looks like."

Amy swallowed and blinked away the look that suggested she'd just been punched in the stomach. "Right," she said slowly. Her eyes flicked to the Doctor's for a moment, and he caught a fleeting look of desperation before she spoke. "Well, he's about this tall." She held up her hand to approximate Rory's height, mechanically giving the same description she'd given everywhere else they'd looked. "He's got brownish-blond hair and dark eyes…rather a big nose…and he's quite thin," she finished, sounding uncertain. The Doctor knew that however badly she wanted to find Rory, she really didn't want this to be the place she found him.

Dr. Branton nodded slowly, looking suddenly older and very tired. The Doctor wondered just how many times she went through this with hopeful people searching for their loved ones. "There are a couple of men here that might describe," she said. "Could you tell me how long he's been missing?"

"Day before yesterday," Amy said.

Dr. Branton closed her eyes briefly and sighed, biting her lip. "I'm afraid we've got who you're looking for," she said slowly, apologetically.

Amy's breath caught in her throat and she looked up at the Doctor. "But it can't…It can't really be him, can it?" she said very quickly, smiling nervously trying to reassure herself.

The Doctor put a hand on her shoulder. "We'd best check though, hadn't we?" he asked softly.

When Amy nodded, Dr. Branton rose from her chair. "Would you like to come and see him?"

Amy nodded again and stood. Her face was outwardly calm, but her breathing was hurried, and when the Doctor took her hand, she squeezed it until her knuckles turned white. "It'll be okay, Amy," he said quietly as they followed Dr. Branton from the room. She nodded, not sure if she believed him but desperately wanting to, and grateful for his reassurance.

They passed through the kitchen, heading outside, and Dr. Branton put a hand on Dahlia's shoulder. "Dahlia, do you know where Tom is?" she asked softly.

"Tom?" Dahlia looked thoughtful. "The new one?" Dr. Branton nodded. "He's up in the north field with Dad and some of the lads. They're clearing up and mending that fence that came down in the mudslide."

"Thanks, love" she said, leading the Doctor and Amy outside. The sky was still overcast, but the sun was peeking through the clouds and it had gotten a bit warmer. "This way."

"Why is someone who suffered some sort of brain injury the day before yesterday out working in a field?" the Doctor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh no!" Dr. Branton said, looking horrified. "No, it's nothing like that at all! People that meet the Winter Demon, whatever it does to them, they're not injured. Physically, they're all perfectly fine. It all happens in here," she said, tapping the side of her head. "They lose everything personal about themselves, but they can still…walk and talk and think and everything." She gestured imploringly with her hands as she spoke. "This is probably a gross understatement, but losing your whole life is very depressing. We find that—especially within the first few days—if we can give them something to do, it helps to keep the brain occupied. And having something else to think about helps them to steer clear of what would otherwise be a very nasty downward spiral. The human brain is remarkably adaptable. If we can keep them on a positive track for the first few days, then they tend to keep on going on their own from there."

"Ah, I see," the Doctor said. "That's actually very good thinking."

"So, what you said about how they keep going," Amy said, suddenly hopeful. "Does that mean their life—their memories and everything start coming back?"

"No," Dr. Branton said sadly. "They're fine from here on out as far as making new memories, but…None of them have ever been able to get back the life they lost."

"Oh," Amy said quietly. She turned to the Doctor as Dr. Branton went on ahead a bit. "But Doctor, you can do something, right?" 31st Century medicine was thing, but the Doctor was another. Of course he could do something.

"I'm certainly going to do everything I can, Amelia," he said seriously, squeezing her shoulder tightly as they walked.

After a few minutes, they approached a group of men working along a fence line. "Why don't you wait here?" Dr. Branton said. "I'll get him for you." She went up to the group, greeted a couple of the men, and pointed back to the Doctor and Amy. One of the men started walking towards them, a little uncertainly, it seemed.

"Rory," Amy said under her breath. And it was. He was wearing the same clothes they'd last seen him in two days ago, with the addition of a thick coat. He was also somewhat muddy, brushing his hands off as best he could on his trouser legs as he approached.

"Um, hello," he said. "The doctor said you—"

He got no further. Amy, unable to help herself, had flung her arms around him with a muffled "Rory!" She pulled away quickly when he didn't respond and took a step back. In any other situation, the startled look on his face would have made her laugh. She swallowed back a lump in her throat. "Sorry," she said. "You, ah, you don't know who I am, do you?" she asked, remarkably steadily she thought.

Rory regained some of his composure. "Not really," he said apologetically. He reached up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Or…or at all, actually. I have no idea. I'm sorry."

"Rory, it's me," she said, taking both of his hands in hers. "It's Amy. I'm your wife." Surely there was something in there!

"My wife?" he asked, eyebrows raising a bit. He looked down at their joined hands, matching rings catching the weak winter sunlight, then back up to meet her eyes. He nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?" she asked. "That's it?"

"I'm sorry, should I not have said that?" Rory looked genuinely confused. "It's…I mean, it's just sort of a lot to take in."

"You know, that's a fair point," the Doctor said gently, breaking in before Amy could reply and placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Hello, Rory. You wouldn't remember me—I'm the Doctor." He turned to Amy. "It's probably a good idea to go a bit slower right now."

"Right," she said, taking in a breath.

"Sorry," Rory said. "I'm really not trying to be difficult. But you keep calling me Rory. Is that my name? They've been calling me Tom."

"Yes," Amy said, smiling as best she could manage. "Rory Williams. Or Rory Pond. We sort of go back and forth."

"I've got two names?"

"Too fast?"

"Maybe a little," he said, giving her a small, apologetic smile.

Something in that smile gave her hope, and she squeezed his hand. "Okay."

"Why don't we walk a bit?" the Doctor suggested. He looked over at Dr. Branton and jerked his head back in the direction of the house. She nodded, and the Doctor flung his arms around the two of them and started walking. "So, Rory," he began. "Tell me what you remember."

"Not a lot, really," Rory said. "I remember waking up yesterday in the farm house—"

"Before that," the Doctor cut in. "If you can."

Rory thought for a minute. "I remember being really cold," he said at last. "And…and it was dark. They said they found me on the moor, and I think I remember walking, but…"

"And that's all?"

"Well, last night," Rory began. "As I was falling asleep…I thought I almost could see…" His hand gestured at the air as he searched for the word or the image. "I don't know. It…it didn't stick."

"Not really a lot to work with, is it?" the Doctor asked sympathetically.

"Can you help him, Doctor?" Amy asked. "You can do something, I know you can. Can't you just go in there and fix it?"

"Go in where?"

"In his head," Amy said. "With that…whatever all that is that you do. You can fix it, right?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, yes, I could," the Doctor said, coming to a stop. They were nearly back at the house. "I could go in, I mean, although I don't see why I couldn't fix it. I was thinking I would wait until we got back to the TARDIS to worry with any of that, but I suppose I could go ahead and take a look."

"You can get my memories back?" Rory asked. "Is that what you're talking about?"

"Well, I don't want to make any promises," the Doctor said cautiously. "But I'm certainly going to try." He took a step towards Rory. "May I?"

Rory looked at him a bit nervously. "May you what?"

"To see what sort of state your memory is in, I'm going to have to have a look inside your head," the Doctor explained.

"My head?" Rory asked worriedly, taking a step back.

"Not physically," the Doctor said. "I'm not going to cut your head open or anything. No, I just want to look with…" He gestured a bit madly with his hands, one of which kept flitting back to the side of his own head. "It's a psychic kind of thing."

Rory looked as if he wanted to say no, but Amy was looking so hopeful that he said, "Alright," albeit uneasily.

"Don't worry," the Doctor said. "I promise it won't hurt."

Gently, he raised his hands, positioning his fingers meticulously on the sides of Rory's face. For a long moment they stood without moving, Rory wide-eyed, taking deep, calming breaths, and the Doctor with his eyes shut in concentration, breathing slowly and evenly. Amy watched them quietly with her hands pressed together against her mouth as if in prayer. This had to work. She just…it had to.

Suddenly Rory and the Doctor both gasped and the Doctor took an abrupt step back, dropping his hands. "I'm sorry, Rory," he said softly, sounding dismayed and genuinely surprised. "I'm so sorry."

"What?" Amy said. "What's wrong?" Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them.

"I can't…" the Doctor began, drawing a hand across his mouth. Were his eyes watering? "I can't fix this."

"You can't fix it? What do you mean?" she demanded. "Why can't you fix it?"

"There's nothing to fix," he said, gesturing helplessly at Rory with one hand. "His memories aren't blocked, or locked away, or, or broken or anything like I thought, they're just…They're not there," he said sadly. He met her eyes. "I can't help him get his memories back because there's nothing to get back. It's all, quite literally, gone." He turned back to Rory. "Rory, I am so sorry."

Rory nodded. "It's alright," he said. "I mean, I did hope, when you said…But the doctor said they wouldn't come back, and…I was starting to get used to the idea."

"And you're okay with that?" Amy said disbelievingly.

Rory smiled sadly. "I don't really know any other way to be about it. It's hard to be upset when you don't know what you're missing."

"Oh," she said in a very small voice. She pressed her lips together and took in a deep breath, rather shakily, the Doctor noticed. "Can you, ah…" Her voice cracked and she held up a finger to indicate that she needed a moment before turning quickly and walking back to the house. She hadn't been quick enough to stop them seeing the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

Rory watched her go. "I've said the wrong thing again, haven't I?"

"Well…yeah," the Doctor said. "Although, to be fair, I don't know that there was a right thing. Not being able to remember, you wouldn't know this, but…Amy loves you very much. This is really hard for her. Especially since she was hoping I could make everything better. Come to that, I was hoping I could too. I usually can. I'm quite good at fixing things. Not that you're a thing. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"A bit," Rory said. "Do you do that often?"

The Doctor made a face. "Yeah," he admitted. He paused. "I am sorry I can't get your memories back."

For a moment Rory said nothing. "Like I said, I don't know any other way to be," he said finally. "To say I'm upset about it isn't the right word, but it does bother me. I can feel that there's something missing. It's really scary if I think too hard about it, and I really don't have much else to think about right now. I just…I feel lost," he finished quietly.

The Doctor put a reassuring arm around Rory's shoulder. "I know. But it won't stay that way forever." Rory raised an inquiring eyebrow and the Doctor shook his head. "You're home now—back where you belong with Amy and me. And this is really hurting her right now, but trust me, Amy's not going anywhere. It's amazing how that lost feeling goes away when you've got someone with you."

"Can I ask you something?" Rory said after a moment. The Doctor nodded and Rory drew in a breath. "I don't know her," he said, looking over to where Amy sat on the porch step. "I mean, she says she's my wife, and I guess I believe her, but I have absolutely no idea who she is. But…I just made her cry. If I don't know her…Why does that hurt so much?" he asked in a pained voice.

To Rory's surprise, the Doctor grinned. "Let me tell you something, Rory," he said, leaning back against the fencepost behind him. "I've been travelling with you and Amy for quite a while now. The whole of space and time we've seen, and sometimes, one gets the impression that the universe has got it in for the two of you. It throws an awful lot at you, but you know what? Time gets ripped apart, or just stops altogether, the universe ends, people stop existing, there's the Silence, Gangers and that whole stupid mess with the Daleks and yet somehow, the two of you always seem to find each other again. I think that if being dead can't stop you from getting back to Amy, then this whole memory thing is something the two of you can work through," he finished with a smile.

Rory blinked. "Okay. Not that I didn't get all that, because I was listening, but, I'm sorry, 'being dead'?"

"Yes," the Doctor said. "You died."

"I died?"

"Yeah. A couple of times, actually. Didn't really stick. Amy can tell you about it later," he said, anticipating his next question. He flashed an encouraging grin. "You're Rory. She's Amy." He nodded towards the porch. "Go get her."

Rory walked to the porch and stood awkwardly next to Amy. She had her face in her hands and didn't seem to have noticed him approaching. Gingerly, he reached down and touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Oh, hi," she said, looking up and hastily wiping tears from her eyes.

"Hi," he said. He gestured to the step next to her. "Um, can I…?"

"Sure," she said, sliding over to make room. She patted the space next to her with an almost convincing smile.

He sat. "Look," he said. "I…I'm sorry. What I said earlier, I didn't mean to make you cry."

"It's okay," she assured him. "It really isn't your fault. It's just…this is harder than I thought it would be."

"Yeah," Rory agreed. "But see, I…You started crying, and I felt absolutely terrible to think that that was because of me. I mean, I don't really know you, but…I never want to do that to you again." He paused. "The Doctor thinks it means we're meant to be together, you and me."

"What do you think?" Amy asked carefully.

"I think he's right," Rory said after a minute. "Or at least, I'd like to." He propped one arm on his knee and leaned into his hand. "For not having much in here, it's awfully loud and muddled and a bit scary inside my head right now. It has been since I woke up yesterday. It's not as bad with you, though. That's why I believed you when you said you were my wife. You just seem…right, somehow."

Amy took his hand. "Well, that's hardly the most romantic thing you've ever said to me," she said, a smile creeping onto her face. "But I can work with that."


	3. Chapter 3

After a lunch at the farmhouse, they began their journey back to the TARDIS. Rory had been fairly quiet throughout the meal, and the Doctor quietly reminded Amy not to push him. He opened up a bit as they walked, asking a few tentative questions, and the longer they talked, the more comfortable he seemed. Amy explained the Pond/Williams business as best she could, and together, she and the Doctor explained how he had died and come back the first time. She told him little things about their life together, about their house with the TARDIS-blue door, growing up in Leadworth and their travels with the Doctor. Nothing too deep for the time being—that could come later, but she thought if she could at least give him an outline of what his life was like, it would help. The lost look in his eyes was just killing her.

By mid-afternoon, they arrived at the TARDIS. "Ah," the Doctor said. "Home sweet home." He jumped over the stone wall Amy had sat on earlier and pulled his key out of his pocket. Amy and Rory walked a few extra feet to a break in the wall.

Rory eyed the TARDIS uncertainly as the Doctor fitted his key into the lock. "We live in a box?" he asked Amy, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"It only looks like a box," Amy assured him. "Just…Look inside, that's easier than explaining." The Doctor went in, and she gestured for Rory to follow him.

Rory stepped in and his eyes went wide, then narrowed again as if he was trying to work something out. "It's bigger on the inside," he said at last. He looked at Amy and seemed to be debating asking his next question. "This…This isn't normal, is it?" he finally asked.

She smiled, started to reach for his hand, then patted him on the shoulder instead. "No," she said. "Not much around here is, actually."

"Good to know," he said, staring around the room.

After a moment's hesitation, Amy moved away and went up to the console where the Doctor was flicking at some switches. "So, are we going somewhere?" she asked.

"Not just yet," the Doctor answered, eyes on the controls. He flicked another switch. "I thought we'd hang about a bit—I'm still quite interested in this Winter Demon." He looked up and caught her eye. "Are you okay?" She looked down at the console and nodded a bit too quickly. "Are you sure?"

She cast a quick look over at Rory who was wandering around the edges of the room, still looking around and well out of earshot. "Of course I'm not okay," she said.

"Oh, Amelia," he said with a sigh, pulling her in tightly for a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and he heard a quiet sniffle, but when she pulled away a second later, her eyes were dry.

"No," she said a bit thickly, wiping at her nose. "I can't do this now. Not where he can see me."

"I think he'd understand," the Doctor said gently.

"Of course he would," Amy said. "He's Rory." She shook her head as a sad smile flicked across her face. "He always understands." She drew in a sharp breath. "But he doesn't need that right now. What he needs is for me to help him figure out who he is, and I have to be strong if I'm going to do that."

The Doctor smiled, a small flicker of pride in his eyes. "My beautiful, brave Amelia," he said. "You are just what he needs, and the two of you are going to make it through this. You really are." He squeezed her shoulders. "Why don't I take him down to the kitchen for some tea? You come and join us when you're ready." He kissed her affectionately on the forehead and moved towards Rory. "We'll keep some warm for you."

The Doctor threw an arm around Rory and led him off into one of the corridors, chatting merrily. Amy watched them go, then drew in a shaky breath and climbed quickly down the stairs that led below the console. A few seconds later she was curled up in the swing the Doctor used for repairs and tears were running down her cheeks. She really didn't know if she could do this. Just knowing that she could never get him back…How much of him was left, anyway? How much of that sad, lost man was really Rory? Would he…would he still love her? Of course he would! He'd said he felt right with her, didn't he? And that was a start. She chuckled bitterly as she realized this must be what he had felt like back at the Pandorica. She hadn't remembered him. If she thought hard enough, she could remember the pain in his eyes when she walked right past him. But he hadn't given up, and neither would she. For better or worse, she'd promised, and this was definitely worse, but it was part of the deal, wasn't it? It hurt—oh, bloody hell, it hurt so much!—but the Doctor was right. They were going to get through this. They might never get back what they had, but they would get back to together. Where they were supposed to be. She wasn't going anywhere.

She cried a little longer, rocking in the swing with her eyes closed. She started to get up and the TARDIS pressed in gently against her brain in what Amy could only think to call a hug. She climbed the stairs, pausing to lay a hand on the console. "Thanks," she whispered, then moved down the corridor to her room. She washed her face, fixed her hair and squared back her shoulders, then went to find her boys in the kitchen.

* * *

Considering the circumstances, Amy thought that tea, and then later dinner, had gone about as well as they could have done. Rory still didn't talk a lot. It seemed like he was unsure of how he fit into the group, and so was opting to observe instead. She and the Doctor had guided the conversation, and she noticed the Doctor drawing Rory in by making several totally outrageous statements that forced him to ask questions.

After dinner, they went for a walk in the TARDIS, giving Rory a tour of sorts. "Not that a tour is necessarily useful," the Doctor explained, walking up ahead of them. "Things do tend to move around when you're not looking."

Rory didn't seem sure how to take this, so he said nothing.

"Hey," Amy said, sliding her hand into his. He looked down at their hands in surprise for a moment, but didn't pull away. She smiled. "You are allowed to talk, you know. I know the Doctor does go on a bit, but don't let that stop you getting a word in."

Rory laughed at that, quickly, and almost in spite of himself, it seemed, but it was genuine. She squeezed his hand, relishing the small smile that lingered on his face. Her heart fluttered a little when he squeezed back. "I think that's the first time I've laughed, since, you know…"

"I'm glad I got to hear it," she said. "I've always liked the way you laughed."

Rory looked down at their hands, fingers twined together, then back up at Amy. "Thanks for being so patient with me," he said. "I know this has got to be hard for you."

"It is," Amy said with a small nod. "Although it's harder for you, I'd imagine." Rory shrugged non-commitally and she squeezed his hand again. "Whatever you need," she said. "If you need me to stay up all night and tell you everything we've ever done together, if you need me to just back off and leave you alone for a while, or something in the middle, I'm here. I love you, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," Rory said sincerely. "I…I thought it was scary, not having a life. I'm realizing now it's equally as terrifying seeing how much I'm missing. But having you with me, and you, just being so patient and so kind with me, it makes it a lot easier to handle." He smiled, as if somewhat surprised. "The Doctor was right."

"Yeah, well, he often is," Amy said, a bit grudgingly. "Don't tell him I said that, though. It'll go to his head."


	4. Chapter 4

The tour ended outside their room. The Doctor said goodnight and promised to be nearby if they needed anything, which Amy found rather odd. Once inside, Rory started acting nervous again.

"Something the matter?" Amy asked.

"Well," Rory said, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "It's just…I mean, I…I know we're married, but I still don't really know you that well, and it doesn't really seem right, to…ah…" He trailed off a bit uselessly, looking over at the bed and drawing awkward circles in the air with his hands, but Amy caught his meaning, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

"Right," she said. "Should have seen that coming."

"What?"

"You are always were such a gentleman about that kind of thing." She smiled, remembering. "Our first kiss was ever so much longer in coming than I would have liked," she teased. She caught herself suddenly, realizing that he didn't know her sense of humour anymore and might not be able to tell she was kidding. "Not that I was thinking we were going to, you know…do _that_ tonight, or anything…" Rory was going decidedly red. "Right. This is getting really awkward, so maybe I'll just stop talking," she said, feeling her own cheeks getting warm. "The one time the bunk beds would have come in handy," she muttered. Something behind Rory caught her eye, and she raised an eyebrow. "Although, I think the TARDIS has got you well looked-after."

Rory turned to follow her gaze and gave a little jump of surprise to see a very large, very comfortable-looking sofa standing in the corner, a pillow and folded blanket sitting neatly at one end. "That wasn't there when we came in."

"No."

"But…"

"In all his rambling tonight, the Doctor left out the bit about how the TARDIS is alive, didn't he?" Amy asked.

"Yes," Rory said. "Yes he did."

"It can be kind of unsettling at first," Amy admitted. "She is trying to help, though."

"She? It's a 'she'?" Rory asked, pointing at the floor to indicate the TARDIS in general. Amy nodded. "Okay. Um, thank you?" he said uncertainly to the ceiling.

Amy felt the TARDIS give something like a purr of acknowledgement. Judging by the look on his face, Rory had felt it too and wasn't sure what to make of it. "You'll get used to it," she assured him. Her eyes caught the dried mud spattered rather liberally over his lower half, and it occurred to her that the hamper in the bathroom that cleaned your clothes and somehow returned them to your closet would be another thing he'd have to get used to. She could bring that up later, though. "Um, you'll probably be wanting some clean clothes—your stuff is in that wardrobe there," she said, pointing. "And the bathroom's through the green door there, if you fancy a shower."

Going through the nightly routine of changing, washing and brushing teeth was surprisingly comforting. Things were normal again for a few minutes, even if Amy did put on rather more in the pyjama department than she normally would have done (and waited until she heard the water running in the shower before she started changing). No need to make Rory more uncomfortable than he already was. They exchanged rather awkward goodnights and Amy turned the lights off. For several minutes she lay with her eyes open, staring through the dark at the ceiling and listening to Rory breathing on the other side of the room. She caught the change in his breath that told her he had fallen asleep and she shut her eyes, reaching across the empty space next to her where he should have been. Her hand brushed his pillow and she pulled it in and hugged it tightly to her chest. It still smelled like him. She buried her face in the pillow and listened to his steady, even breathing, and she could pretend, as she drifted off to sleep, that everything was back the way it was supposed to be. Almost…

Sometime later she woke up to another familiar, less pleasant sound. Rory was shifting uncomfortably under his blanket, still asleep but breathing hurriedly. He was having a nightmare. She sat up and flicked on the lamp by the bed, wondering briefly if it was the one about the Nestene Consciousness. He had that one more often than he cared to admit to her. He could hardly be having it now, though. With two days' worth of memories in his head, what was there to have nightmares about?

Just as she got to her feet, the door burst open and she jumped back in surprise and sat down hard on the bed. The Doctor appeared in the doorway, wearing blue and orange-striped pyjamas and fuzzy slippers. "Doctor! What in the hell are you doing in here?" she hissed, mentally filing away the existence of the fuzzy slippers to tease him about later.

The Doctor looked up sharply, as if momentarily surprised to find her in the room. He opened his mouth, decided against answering, and resumed crossing the room to Rory's side. Rory was tossing a bit more vigorously than before, but he was still asleep. Amy stomped over and clamped a hand down on the Doctor's shoulder. "Doctor," she demanded in a fierce whisper. "What are you doing in our room in the middle of the night? We've talked about this, you know."

"Not now, Pond, this is important," he said, and without any further ado, sat down on the sofa and grabbed the sides of Rory's head in his hands. Rory sat bolt upright with a strangled gasp, eyes wide open and rather frightened as he stared at the Doctor. "Sorry, Rory. Bear with me," he whispered.

* * *

Rory wasn't sure where he was at the moment, but it was eerily familiar and not so at the same time. It was cold, it was dark, it was very wet and he had the distinct impression he was lost. But none of that was as worrying as…What was it? He couldn't really see it. There was light dancing through the mist and the trees, and it was cold and white and not at all a welcoming sort of light. And in the centre of it was something, something moving. It was grabbing his arm and the light was seeping into his skin and burning through his brain and he was on his knees on the ground and the light was going again and so was everything else and it hurt and it was so cold…

And then he was in the TARDIS, sitting up and sweating, tangled in a quilt with his breath coming in short, hurried gasps and the Doctor was, somewhat disconcertingly, hugging him. He realized suddenly that he didn't really mind—at the moment he desperately needed something to hold on to.

Amy was standing just behind the Doctor, looking very confused and terribly concerned. For him? Was she worried about him? "Doctor, what is going on?" she demanded. "What the hell was that?"

The Doctor pulled away from Rory, motioning to Amy to come over. She sat down next to Rory and put an arm around him in one motion. She put her other hand to his face, stroking his cheek softly. He found it immensely calming and closed his eyes with a sigh. "Are you okay?" she asked him.

He nodded and opened his eyes. "Yeah," he said, his breathing slowing back down to normal. "I think so."

She turned her head sharply to the Doctor and he started speaking, cutting her off. "Yes, sorry, I know that was a bit abrupt," he said quickly. "He was having a nightmare about the Winter Demon and I needed to see it. I need to get a feel for what this thing is like if we're going to find it and stop it."

"How did you know that was what he was dreaming about?" Amy asked, still looking quite annoyed.

"Well, he…No offence," he said, turning to Rory and gesturing at his head. "But there's not much in there right now. What else would he be having a nightmare about?"

"That's a fair point," Rory agreed. "But why was I having a nightmare about that? If all my memories are gone…"

"The Demon took away all the memories that you had made up to the point it met you," the Doctor explained. "It took out your past, but since your meeting it was the present at the time and not the past, it didn't take that, although based on what I saw, it was a fairly traumatic experience, so your brain was blocking it out and you didn't remember it anyway."

Rory absorbed this rush of words and then nodded slowly. "And you knew I was having a nightmare because…?"

"The TARDIS told me."

"Right." Rory had accepted that Doctor was some sort of psychic—he'd seen it himself earlier in the day and was even mostly okay with that—but this life that seemed to be his…It just kept getting weirder.

"Why did you need to do this, exactly?" Amy pressed.

"I told you, I needed to see the Demon," the Doctor said. "In Rory's brain I could see it firsthand, and I've got an idea of how it works now. I might even be able to find it."

"I suppose that's helpful," Amy admitted begrudgingly. "You might have asked first, though. You scared me half to death."

"Yeah, me too," Rory put in, raising one hand slightly.

"I did say sorry," the Doctor said, and he sounded sincerely apologetic. "But there wouldn't have been much point in waking you up to ask you first."

"No, but you could have mentioned beforehand that you might be doing something like this," Amy pointed out.

The Doctor considered this. "I suppose I could have done that," he said. "Didn't occur to me."

"Yeah. Noticed that," Amy said.

"I should probably go and let you get back to sleep now," the Doctor said rather sheepishly.

"Probably so," Amy agreed.

"Good night, then. Sorry for scaring everyone," the Doctor said and disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

Amy rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath that included the words 'bow tie' and 'idiot'. She turned back to Rory. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "Actually, whatever I was dreaming about, it's…it's already gone. I just feel sort of…" Unsettled, he decided, was the word he wanted. Perhaps a lingering feeling of fear too, though he couldn't remember of what. Maybe it would go away if he changed the subject. "Does he, ah, does he do that often?" Rory asked, looking over at the door the Doctor had departed through.

"No," Amy said, rather firmly. "And he'd better not think he's going to be making a habit out of it. We had to have a talk with him a while back about boundaries. Not being human, he's not always sure where the lines are, although you'd think by his age he'd have worked it out. But no, you were very clear, and up until tonight, he's been very good about our personal space."

"I was very clear?" Rory asked, surprised.

"Oh yes," Amy assured him. "I made you do the talking."

"Why?"

"You're the husband. That's your job," she said primly.

"The husband's job is to talk to aliens about boundaries and keep them out of our bedroom?"

"Among other things," Amy answered with a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," Rory said, smiling back.

Amy moved beside him, and his hand instinctively clutched at her nightdress. He didn't remember putting his arm around her waist, but he didn't want to let go yet. Traces of fear from his nightmare still danced around the corners of his mind, and his thoughts were threatening to float away into a sea of lostness again. "Don't go," he whispered hesitantly.

"I won't," she said kindly. "Don't worry." She pulled him in closer and he hugged her tightly, grateful for the feel of her arms around him. He still felt lost, but not so alone—her arms were an anchor, keeping him from drifting too far away. Her fingers began to trace soothing circles on his back and he closed his eyes. He didn't know Amy Pond, but he found himself relieved beyond words that she was giving him a second chance to, because he was in her arms and it was right. He wasn't sure how yet, but it was right. This was home.

* * *

Amy hugged Rory tightly. When he had smiled at her just now, oh that smile! It had been a real Rory smile, a smile she knew and loved, and it filled her with hope like nothing else had since all this started. She said nothing for a long time, just held him, enjoying his arms around her and the fact that he had put them there of his own accord.

Shifting a little, she leaned back against the arm of the sofa, still holding on to her husband. He started to open his eyes as she moved, and she put a hand to his head. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere." His head rested on her shoulder and she laid her head on his, closing her eyes and stroking his hair with one hand as they drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Amy woke abruptly the next morning at a sharp ripple of displeasure from the TARDIS, and she was reasonably sure that she didn't imagine the far-off tinkle of breaking glass. She glanced at her watch, which she had forgotten to remove the night before and grumbled. Relative to the night before (no time in the TARDIS was ever terribly precise), it was nearly seven in the morning. She would never cease to be puzzled by the Doctor's apparent inability to sleep late, or his insistence on making far too much noise far too early in the morning.

Rory slept through it of course. He'd always been a heavy sleeper. Or maybe the TARDIS hadn't wanted to bother him. In either case, Amy didn't want to wake him, so she very carefully lifted his arm from off her waist and slid off the couch. Actually, she was glad he hadn't been awake to see that—trying to move the sofa cushions as little as possible, she ended up rolling off the side into a rather undignified heap on the carpet. He would have enjoyed teasing her about that.

Or would he? Along with his memories, Rory seemed to have lost all of his confidence as well. Of course, he would have done, Amy chided herself. They sort of went together, after all. Rory just wasn't comfortable around her any more, and that hurt almost as much as him not remembering her. She knew he would feel comfortable around her—they just needed time to get to know each other again. (She refused to consider things turning out otherwise.) Suddenly feeling the urge to start crying again, she made her way quickly to the bathroom without looking behind her. She let herself break down then, her tears mingling with the hot water of the shower.

This must be what it was like living with someone who'd had a brain injury, she reasoned. At least he was okay physically, and for that she was grateful. The rest of it, though…Were there support groups for people like them? Their circumstances were a bit more unique than, say, someone who'd been in a car wreck. And eventually they were going to have to go home—Rory wouldn't be able to work at the hospital any more, there would have to be some kind of explanation for their friends and for Rory's dad. His dad. Oh, bloody hell, Brian…Amy pressed her hand to her mouth. He knew about the Doctor, sure, so he could grasp the whole alien-ate-my-memories thing better than their friends would, but it's not like that would make it any easier to have his son have no idea who he was. Amy choked down a sob. She'd known this was going to be hard, but she hadn't grasped the vastness of it yesterday. It just kept getting harder, and she could tell herself they were going to be okay all she wanted, but it sure didn't seem like there was any light at the end of this tunnel.

But then Rory smiled at her. Last night, he had smiled the way he used to. His arm had been around her. He'd asked her not to go. There had been hope. She remembered what the hope felt like, clung on to it like she was drowning, and there still wasn't a light at the end of the tunnel, but it wasn't as dark any more.

With that giving her strength, she finished her shower, fixed her hair, and wished she'd remembered to bring some clothes in with her so she could change. Towel wrapped securely around her, she tiptoed back into the room, snatched an outfit from her wardrobe and silently thanked the TARDIS for keeping the lights down as she wriggled into her clothes. The jeans were more of an issue than she'd foreseen, as she hadn't dried off properly, and she lost her balance, fell over on the bed, and decided to remain lying down to get the denim up over her claggy legs. Thankfully, Rory remained asleep. She was having a terribly ungraceful morning.

The lights came up about half way, and as Amy looked over at where Rory was sleeping, she couldn't help but smile. Though the sofa and the quilt he was under were long enough for his lanky frame, after Amy had gotten up he had curled up at one end. He was hugging a pillow, and was only visible from the nose up under the quilt which Amy had only just noticed was white and embroidered with pastel butterflies. He looked absolutely adorable, and she found herself suddenly wanting to pat him on the head.

She debated waiting in the room until Rory woke up, but she really wanted a cup of tea. He seemed so peaceful, she hated to wake him, but she didn't like the thought of him waking up on his own. Finally she decided to go. She wouldn't be long, and a talk with the Doctor over tea would do her good. She was resolved to be strong for Rory, but that didn't mean she had to do it alone. She'd let him sleep and hurry back.

Once in the kitchen, she discovered the source of the TARDIS's earlier displeasure. The Doctor seemed to have broken a window. That would explain the upset TARDIS and sound she had heard earlier, but it raised a whole host of other questions (the foremost of which was why there was a window in the kitchen this morning in the first place). The window seemed to lead to a garden that she was reasonably sure was decorative and not actually part of the TARDIS.

"Doctor, why…" She glanced at the broom and dustpan in his hand as he deposited the last of the glass shards into a bin, and decided it was best not to ask. That way only madness lay.

"Hmm? Oh, good morning, Amelia," he said, dropping the dustpan hastily along with its contents into the bin, as if hoping she hadn't seen it. "Would you like some tea?"

"You are a very strange man," Amy said, sitting down and accepting the proffered mug.

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, then caught himself and tilted his head in agreement. He sat down across from her. "How are you this morning?" he asked, somewhat more seriously.

Amy shrugged. "Alright. I just…I realized this morning how far this mess with Rory actually goes. How many more people it affects besides him and me." She took a long sip of her tea. "Are you sure there's nothing you can do?"

The Doctor nodded sadly. "I am. I'm so sorry, but…yeah."

She nodded. "I know. I just sort of hoped, you know?"

"Hope is good. Don't ever stop hoping," he told her gravely.

She took another sip of her tea and looked up at him. "You know, I hadn't thought to ask yet, but how are you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. I mean, with all of this?"

"I'm fine," he said.

Amy rolled her eyes. She knew him too well for that. "Oh, don't even try that one. How are you really?"

The Doctor looked down at his tea sadly. "It's never supposed to be like this," he said quietly. He propped his elbows on the table and leaned his face into his hands. "Nothing like this was supposed to happen," he muttered, his words somewhat muffled by his hands.

Amy's heart went out to him, and she scolded herself for being so selfish. The Doctor cared about Rory too. He'd brought him onto the TARDIS out of a sense of duty, and Rory had dragged his feet at first, and there'd been bickering and jealousy and competition, but somewhere along the way, her boys really had become friends. When that thing took Rory's memories, they'd both lost someone they loved.

"Hey," she said softly, reaching a hand across the table to grab his arm. "It's okay. It's not your fault, you know."

He lifted his face from his hands, smiling humourlessly. "Really? That's a new one."

"I mean it," she assured him. "I'm his wife. If anyone could blame you, it's me. But since I don't, you don't get to either."

That earned her a genuine smile. "We'll get through this together," she went on. "You and me and Rory. Just like we always do, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed. He straightened up and looked around the kitchen. "Speaking of which, where is Rory?"

"Still asleep," she said. "I hated to wake him."

"Ah. What are you doing up this early?"

Amy raised an eyebrow. "The TARDIS was upset about something. I'm guessing it was that," she said, nodding towards the mysterious window.

"Oh, right," the Doctor said, looking sheepish. "Well, see, I was making muffins, and it wasn't working…"

"How…" Amy began. "No. I'm not going to ask."

"Yeah, best not," the Doctor agreed. A few minutes passed as they carried on drinking their tea in companionable silence.

"Um, hello," said a voice from the door. They turned to see Rory standing there, looking as if he was waiting to be asked in.

"Rory!" the Doctor said, bounding to his feet. "Good morning! Come on in and have some tea," he said, grabbing Rory's arm and ushering him to the table.

"Hey," Amy said as he sat down. "Um, sorry, I didn't mean to run off and leave you in the room…"

"Oh, no, it's alright," Rory said. "It is just across the hall."

"Is it?" the Doctor asked curiously.

Amy craned her neck to look out the door. Sure enough, there was their room. "Huh," she said. "It was three corridors away when I came out."

The Doctor beamed at Rory. "The TARDIS didn't want you to get lost! Oh, that's nice," he said, patting the table. "She's a sweet old girl."

"You mean the corridors moved so I could find the kitchen?" Rory asked.

"She does that," the Doctor said. "If she's feeling cheeky, she'll move things so they're harder to find, but she's trying to help, and she's always liked you."

"Really?" Rory asked.

"Mm-hmm. She thinks you're pretty," he said, finishing off his tea and failing to notice as his companions both choked suddenly on theirs.

* * *

Despite whatever was supposed to have happened with the muffins, breakfast turned out to be quite good. (One could never tell when the Doctor was cooking. He meant well, but sometimes he would get into a creative mood, which could get…interesting.) When they finished, the Doctor seemed in a great hurry to rush them out.

"Come on, come on!" he said, ushering them toward the door. "Lots to do today!"

"Really?" asked Rory. "What are we doing?"

The Doctor grinned, gesturing excitedly with his hands. "Are you kidding? There's something out there. Something big and scary and interesting that I know absolutely nothing about. What do you think we're doing?"

"I really don't know," Rory said. "You're probably asking the wrong person."

The Doctor had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

"I think he means we're going to be investing this Winter Demon thing," Amy said. "Sorting out trouble is kind of what we do. And he hates not knowing things."

"Right," Rory said with a nod. "Thanks."

Amy smiled at him. "Hang on," she said, turning to the Doctor. "What do you mean you know nothing about it? I thought you said you learned all about it after that mess with Rory's head last night."

"Ah, yes, well," the Doctor said. "I wouldn't say I learned all about it. It's more that I learned a little bit about it. I know what it did to Rory and more or less how it did it, and that it's an energy-based sort of creature, but that's about all I've got."

"We're not just going to wander out on the moor until we find it, are we?" Amy asked, not entirely looking forward to the answer.

"Of course not, Pond!" he assured her. "That would be stupid. We've already seen what happens when you do that. No, we're going to research this properly."

"How?" Rory asked. "No one's ever even seen the thing. Not that they remember, anyway," he added as an afterthought.

"Doctor Sara Branton," the Doctor said, pointing a finger at the pair of them as if he'd just won a point. "She's been studying the creature and its effects for years. I'll wager there's no one on this planet who knows more about it than she does. Now go on! Out! We're in a hurry!" He shooed them past the console and out the front doors.

"Whoa!" Rory exclaimed, coming to a stop so quickly that Amy ran into the back of him. The Doctor nimbly skirted around them. "We've moved!" And so they had.

Instead of coming out to the wood and stone wall that had surrounded the TARDIS the night before, they had stepped out onto a field of yellowed, muddy grass. A wooden fence ran off out of sight in one direction, while in the other, it stopped a few feet away at the back porch of a large house. They were back at Moorside Farm.

"Thought I'd save us a walk," the Doctor said breezily.

"Right, spaceship, sorry," Rory said, shaking his head.

"It's okay," Amy assured him, patting him lightly on the arm. "It takes a lot of getting used to."

They followed the Doctor, who was already inside. "Ah, Dr. Branton, hello!" the Doctor was saying, grabbing the woman by the hand and shaking enthusiastically.

"Hello," she replied, looking rather surprised to find the three of them in her kitchen.

"Sorry," Amy said, elbowing the Doctor aside. "I think what he meant to say was 'May we please come in'?"

"Yes, yes, that's fine," Dr. Branton said, recovering her composure. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes," the Doctor said. "I need to know everything you know about the Winter Demon."

"Oh?" she said.

"Yes. I think it's about time it stopped eating people's memories, don't you?"

"Well," she answered cautiously. "That would be very nice indeed, but it has been tried before, you know."

The Doctor smiled. "But not by me."

She studied him a moment, amused by his confidence. "Alright," she sighed. "I'll tell you what I can, but I wouldn't get your hopes up."

She led them to her study, called for Dahlia to bring them some tea and began pulling a series of notebooks from the shelves, which the Doctor eagerly snatched up. She paused next to the sofa where Amy and Rory were sitting. "How are you today, dear?" she asked, laying a hand lightly on Rory's shoulder. "You're looking better than the last time I saw you."

"I suppose I am," Rory said after a moment's consideration. "I've had some help," he added, casting a shy, but fond look at Amy.

Dr. Branton smiled. "I'm glad of that. If there's anything I can do—for either of you," she looked ay Amy. "Just let me know."

Despite the fact that no one knew much about the Winter Demon, there was an awful lot of information to be had. Dr. Branton explained that she was carrying on the work of her father before her—he'd also been a doctor, and it had been his life's mission to find a cure for the victims of the Winter Demon. He'd had no luck, but there were books and books filled with notes of medical tests, results and theories. As Dr. Branton had explained the day before, there was never any physical sign of damage to any of the victims. Her father had tried everything—even going so far once as to hire a steam-powered ship (standard fare for breaking out of the planet's EM field), which took him and seven patients to a nearby space station. He ran every test that the best of Imperial technology could offer, and still came home empty-handed.

In addition to copious medical files (which the Doctor was poring through intently), Dr. Branton had amassed all she could on the historical side of the creature. Amy and Rory worked their way through these, reading interesting bits aloud. Denara had been colonized two-hundred and thirteen years ago by a group of explorers. Their ship had crashed—rendered inoperable by the planet's EM field—but the survivors of the crash had found the planet a pleasant place. It was unpopulated, and the prospect of a low-tech, colonial life proved to be quite attractive, drawing others to the planet as well. A system of steam-powered vehicles was put into place to allow for safe passage on and off world, and everything seemed to be going well. Until the first winter came.

No one had realized the significance of the first victim at the time—a fifteen year old boy believed to have injured himself in some way on the moor. But others soon followed. As the winter deepened, more and more victims turned up, until finally the connection was made. There was something out on the moor. But then the winter ended, and there were no more victims. The colonists began to breathe easier again, but they were cautious when the next winter came around. When the same thing started to happen, search parties were sent out onto the moor. Some returned with nothing, others came back with their memories gone. Year after year, the same thing happened, until people finally gave up and just avoided the moor altogether. Those who lived farther away didn't worry as much (but in the depths of winter, the Demon's reach was surprisingly long), and those who lived nearby were cautious and fearful in the winter months. But life went on, as normal as it could be. Until ten years ago.

Ten years back, Denara had the coldest winter in recorded history. Winter came early and stayed late. And when it came early, the Demon came with it and more people were taken than ever before. Though the winters after that one fell back into a normal pattern, the Demon did not. Each year, it came out earlier and stayed out longer than the last.

"Interesting," the Doctor said as Dr. Branton elaborated on this last point. He was upside down in a chair, with his legs up the back and his head dangling above the floor. He'd been flipping through another medical journal, and up until this point hadn't given the impression that he'd been listening to her. "Ever since it got colder, it's been hanging around longer…Even though the winters have gone back to normal?" Dr. Branton nodded. "Hmm. That's important," he said at last. "I'm not sure how," he said, holding up a finger to preempt the question Amy was starting to form. "But it is."

"What did it do before the colonists came?" Rory asked.

"What?" Amy said.

Rory looked a little surprised that he had spoken up, but he composed himself and carried on. "I mean, we're assuming this thing eats memories, right? There's not much reason for it otherwise, unless…Well, it could just be doing it to be mean, but there doesn't seem a lot of point in that. So, if it eats memories, what did it eat before everyone got here?"

Amy found herself smiling with pride. That was a good question. No idea what was going on, but he still figured out how to do this thing properly. That was her brilliant Rory.

The Doctor was giving him a look that was very difficult to interpret upside down. "Sorry," Rory said. "Was that a stupid question? Never mind."

"Rory Williams," the Doctor said, rolling into an upright position with an uncharacteristic grace that Amy found herself deeply envying. "That was a brilliant question" He was beaming. Rory smiled, surprised but pleased with the compliment. The Doctor turned to Dr. Branton. "What _did_ it eat before you lot got here?"

Dr. Branton was caught off-guard. "I…I don't know," she said. "It hadn't occurred to me to wonder that."

"Nor me," the Doctor admitted. "But it is a good thing to wonder."

"Could it have come down with the ship?" Amy asked. "Maybe it had something to eat out in space, but got pulled down with them somehow."

"Surely someone would have noticed if this creature had been on board," Dr. Branton pointed out.

"Well," the Doctor said. "It does seem to consist mostly, if not entirely, of energy. You can't always see something like that. It's a point to bear in mind, Pond," he concluded.


	6. Chapter 6

The day progressed with reading of notes, the occasional discussion of a theory, and a break for lunch. As far as days with the Doctor went, it was very tame, and Amy found herself getting somewhat bored. Doctor Branton had been in and out of the room with patients, and when she came back in just before sundown to offer them dinner, Amy practically leapt off the sofa. Her sudden movement startled Rory, who had been nodding off over his book, and he looked faintly embarrassed as he got to his feet.

They managed to drag the Doctor away from his notes—his usual restlessness had vanished today, as he found the nearly identical case studies entirely fascinating. He had barely moved all day.

Halfway through dinner, there was a knock at the door. Dr. Branton sent Dahlia to get it, and she returned a moment later looking very pale. "Aunt Sara," she said unsteadily. "You'd better go to the door." At her aunt's worried look she added, "It's another one."

Dr. Branton rose and rushed to the door, and the Doctor was right behind her. Amy and Rory gave each other a puzzled glance before realizing what the girl meant. Slowly they rose and followed the sound of voices back to the sitting room. Dahlia was ushering one of the farm hands to the kitchen, while the woman he had brought in was sitting in a chair. Dr. Branton was examining her while the Doctor hovered nearby. The woman's face was completely blank.

Amy's stomach twisted into a knot as she looked at the woman and realized that this was what had happened to Rory. Three days ago that had been him, cold, alone and completely empty and she felt sick. What sort of sick creature would do this? Could she have stopped it somehow if she had gone back with him? She reached out a hand, suddenly needing to touch Rory, to know that he was there and to reassure herself that he was going to be okay. She found his hand reaching for hers and she grabbed it tightly. With great effort, she pulled herself back to the present, realizing that Dr. Branton was speaking.

"This is bad," she was saying softly.

"Yes, I would think that was obvious," the Doctor replied.

"No, Doctor, you don't understand," Dr. Branton insisted. "She shouldn't be here. The Demon was later than it had ever been when it found your friend." She nodded back toward Rory. "It's been getting warmer since then, and it's still come back." She swallowed hard. "It's more than that, though. Look outside." She nodded at the window. "It's only just gotten dark, and who knows how long she was walking before someone found her? This happened when the sun was still up. Coming late is bad enough, but the creature has never struck in daylight. Never. It's getting stronger," she finished desperately.

The Doctor nodded in understanding and looked back at the woman. She hadn't moved, she hadn't even blinked. "Why the sudden change?" he asked softly. After a moment's contemplation, he reached his fingers up carefully to the sides of the woman's head, gently looking into her mind as he had done with Rory the day before.

A sudden pressure in her hand made Amy realize that Rory was squeezing her hand painfully tightly. She looked over at him and saw that he was staring hard at the Doctor and the woman. He was very pale and seemed to be having trouble breathing.

"Rory?" she whispered. He didn't respond. She put a hand to his shoulder and found he had gone very stiff. "Rory?" she said again, a little more urgently.

He blinked and drew in a sudden breath, the tension leaving his muscles.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

He looked at her and blinked again, but didn't seem to be able to find the words he was looking for.

"Come on," she said, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Let's get you out of here." She led him through the kitchen and out the back, and by the time they reached the porch he was breathing normally again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just…" He made a fist and pressed it to his mouth, closing his eyes. "That woman, I saw her and I…" He opened his eyes and looked at her sadly. "I remember that," he finished.

"You remember…?"

He nodded. "Being…empty like that. Just sitting there with nothing…" He gestured helplessly at his own head. "It was awful," he finished shakily.

Amy threw her arms around him and pulled him close, and this time he hugged her back. With one hand, she guided his head down to the crook between her neck and shoulder, rubbing his neck and his back and leaning her head against him. "Hey, hey, it's alright," she whispered soothingly. "It's alright, you're safe now. It's over. It's going to be okay." He shook and she held him, whispering comforting words. A few minutes later, he pulled back.

"Sorry," he said, looking embarrassed.

She smiled warmly and put a hand to the side of his face. She wanted to kiss him, but he seemed uncomfortable again after such an emotional display and…No, it wasn't a good time. She stroked his cheek with her thumb a couple of times. "It's okay," she assured him. Her hand dropped to hold his. "I think we're done in there for the night," she said, nodding back at the farm house as she moved to open the TARDIS door. "How does a cup of tea sound?"

"It sounds good," Rory answered with a grateful smile. He stepped in to the TARDIS after her, looked around and shook his head briefly, as if to clear it. "I knew that it was going to be bigger in here," he said in answer to the look she was giving him. "But it's still a bit weird."

Amy looked up as the TARDIS lights twinkled in a way that could only be described as fondly. "That's a bit weird too," Rory added.

In keeping with her earlier helpful mood, the TARDIS had left their bedroom across the corridor from the kitchen, and so Amy sent Rory in to sit down and relax, assuring him she could make the tea on her own. In truth, she felt she needed a minute to compose herself. Seeing that woman had rattled her more than she wanted to let on. She stared at the kettle as the water boiled, her hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles turned white. In her mind's eye, the woman had been replaced by Rory, and she could see all too clearly how he would have looked as he sat by the fire, just a shell of himself. She couldn't even begin to imagine how hopeless and terrified he must have felt, and she felt sick again.

The whistle of the kettle snapped her out of her reverie, and she wiped hastily at her eyes before grabbing two mugs. "He's fine," she told herself. "He's going to be okay." Sure, he still didn't remember anything, but having seen what he was like three days ago, he'd gotten so much better since then, hadn't he? Of course he had. "It's going to be okay," she repeated as she finished the tea. Looking down at the cups in her hands, she realized she had made his without thinking—two sugars, no milk—just the way she was used to making it. She hoped he still liked it that way.

She crossed the hall and nudged the door to their room open with her hip. Rory was standing by the dresser, holding one of the many photo frames that were usually scattered across the top. He put it down quickly when she entered, taking a step back guiltily. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to go through your things, I just…"

"You really need to stop apologizing for everything," Amy told him, holding out his tea. "And they're your things too, you know."

"Right," he said with a nod, and she saw his lips twitch as he attempted not to apologize for apologizing like she knew he was about to. "Thanks," he said, taking the tea.

"So which one were you looking at?" she asked, stepping closer.

"Oh, um, this one," he said, picking up a dark, cherry-coloured frame. It held a picture of the two of them standing by the waterfront in Venice. He set the frame down again. "I thought maybe if I saw these I could remember, but…"

"That was our first date in the TARDIS," Amy said, nodding toward the picture. "The Doctor took us to Venice. It was supposed to be romantic, but there were fish from space pretending to be vampires and things exploding, which doesn't make for much of a date." She took a sip of her tea as Rory processed this information. "You did nearly get yourself killed defending me from one of those vampire fish though, and that was very romantic." That got a smile out of him.

She edged closer. "This one was at our wedding," she went on, indicating another photo. She was sitting at one of the tables, barefooted and exhausted from dancing and laughing with delight. Rory had his arm around her and was kissing her on the cheek. She had loved this one so much more than any of the formal wedding photos—they looked so completely and utterly happy. "Oh, and look, here we are at school," she said, grabbing one from the back. She and Rory were stood there in their red school jumpers, about nine years old. Rory looked distinctly ruffled. "If you're wondering why your hair's looking like that, it's because I had just pushed you into a bush."

Rory raised a curious eyebrow. "Why did you do that?"

"To be honest, I can't remember. I…sort of pushed you around a lot when we were little," Amy admitted. "Actually, I think the first words I ever said to you were 'Stupid English boy'."

"Lovely," Rory said, smiling again. "You sound like you were a charming child."

"Well, you were certainly very patient. I don't know why you put up with me as long as you did." Swallowing down a lump in her throat as she thought of how Rory normally would have responded to that, she hurried on before he could say anything. "Oh, and this was when you passed your test to become a nurse," she said, picking up another one with a smile. Amy was in the foreground of the picture, holding up Rory's letter announcing his passing grades and grinning broadly. Rory was in the back, looking pleased and embarrassed over all the attention. "I was so proud of you. We went out for dinner at our first properly posh restaurant, with dancing and everything, then we went back to your flat and..." Her cheeks went slightly pink as she remembered where this story went. "Well, there were a lot of firsts that night."

Rory coughed into his tea, his face going through about five shades of red in rapid succession.

"Sorry," Amy said, turning back to the photos to hide her deepening blush. Her eye caught another photo and she ran a gentle finger along the edge of it. "That was the same place you took me when you proposed," she said softly. Her voice caught in her throat as she remembered him down on one knee and stumbling through his words, and how she had been so happy when he finally asked that she nearly knocked him over leaping into his arms.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," she said quickly, not looking back at him. Her eyes were starting to water. No, no, no, not now! She squeezed her eyes shut tight and sniffled, unable to help herself.

His hand fluttered uncertainly on her shoulder for a moment before he seemed to come to a decision, then his hand steadied and pulled her back into a hug. He cradled her head to his chest with one hand, and it was so warm and so familiar that she couldn't hold it in any longer and began crying silently into his shirt. "I miss you," she whispered.

She felt his chest move as he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he said. "You've been so amazing and patient with me, I…I keep forgetting how hard this is for you. We…" He swallowed again. "We really loved each other, didn't we?" he said unsteadily.

She nodded against his chest and hugged him closer. Oh, that past tense was like a knife in the heart.

He held her tightly, not saying anything for a while. Eventually, he took a step back, his hands gripping her shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry that I've gone and messed this up. I can't—I can't even really imagine how much this is hurting you, so I'll understand if you…But if you can give me time, I want to get it all back," he said tentatively. "I want to fall in love with you again."

He looked down at her nervously, waiting for her to respond, and she gave him a watery smile. "Okay," she said softly, putting her hands on his arms. "For you? All the time you need." She grinned a little wider. "Even if we weren't in a time machine."

He smiled and she went on, her voice growing in steadiness. "And don't go thinking that this," she said, gesturing with one hand at her glistening eyes. "Means that you can't come to me with…well, with anything."

He nodded. "As long as you don't think you have to be strong in front of me all the time."

"Deal."


	7. Chapter 7

Instead of breaking their fragile relationship, as Amy had feared it would, the painful honesty of the past few minutes seemed to have eased something back into place. The two of them sat on the floor leaning against the dresser, a large stack of framed photos in front of them, and their conversation flowed more smoothly than it had for days. They chatted companionably, even laughed occasionally, as Amy explained the significance of each of the pictures. They were starting to find each other again.

In the middle of what was turning out to be a rather complicated story about the photo of the centurion and the kissogram at a fancy dress party, there was a single, sharp knock on the door and the Doctor burst into the room. He was very excited about something.

"Doctor," Amy began with an exasperated sigh. "We just had a talk about this last night."

"Yes, yes, I know," he said quickly, waving away her complaint. "But I did knock." He dropped down cross-legged to sit in front of them. "Rory the Roman!" he beamed, holding his hands out wide to gesture at Rory. "I've worked it out!"

"Great," Rory said. "Um, what is it you've worked out, exactly?"

"The creature!" the Doctor enthused. "The Winter Demon! It was you!"

Rory blinked. "What?"

"Well, no, I mean, _you're_ not the creature," the Doctor explained, gesturing wildly with his hands as he back-tracked. "But it met you. Or you met it. And it took your memories."

"Yeah, we know that," Amy said, arching an eyebrow.

"Hush, Pond, I'm not done yet," the Doctor said, shooting a sideways glare at her. He turned back to Rory. "I should have seen it earlier. It's all been right there, staring me in the face. You even said it."

"I did?" Rory asked.

"You did," the Doctor said with a nod. "The Demon feeds on memories," he said, repeating Rory's earlier theory. "And you were right. It was all right there in Dr. Branton's notes—patient after patient, for years and years, all with memories gone and not a physical scratch on their bodies. Because it was all in here," he said, tapping the side of his head. "Memories are a kind of energy when you come down to it—just neurons firing in a pattern they've been set into. And there are all sorts of things that feed on energy."

"Like the Weeping Angels," Amy suggested.

The Doctor grinned at her. "Exactly like the Weeping Angels," he said. "In fact, the Demon is just like a Weeping Angel, only backwards."

"Backwards?"

"The Angels feed off of your potential energy," the Doctor explained. "The Demon feeds off of energy you've already used. A bit like processed food. You've done all the work of experiencing the memory, and your brain's done all the work of setting it into a nice pattern."

"So, if it eats memories, why doesn't it just take everything?" Rory asked. "Why just personal things?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Personal memories are more complex than basic ones like walking and talking. Maybe it's a picky eater. Which is why all the victims have the same results—it lifts out the bits it wants and leaves the rest. It's like a pineapple. You can eat the hard bit in the middle, but nobody likes to."

"I like the middle bit of the pineapple," Amy put in.

The Doctor glared at her. "Oh, you would, wouldn't you? Leave my metaphor alone."

"Sorry," Amy said, raising a hand in mock surrender.

The Doctor cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, so you cut out the middle bits and you get nice rings of pineapple with nice, even holes in the middle. Just like all the victim's brains."

Rory shot a questioning glance at Amy before looking quizzically back at the Doctor. "So…my brain is like a pineapple?"

"Yes. Well, no, it's like the leftover middle bit no one wanted to eat."

"O…kay," Rory said slowly, looking as though he was trying to work out if he was being insulted or not.

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully for a moment before remembering that he hadn't finished his train of thought. "Yes, anyway, you said the Demon eats memories and you asked what it ate before anyone got here," he went on, looking at Rory as if he was expecting a reply.

"I did ask that, yes," Rory said, unsure of what the Doctor wanted him to say. Apparently, that had been it, and the Doctor gave a satisfied nod.

"And then you," the Doctor continued, turning to Amy. "Said that maybe it had come down from space. And that solves all of it! I don't know why it took me all day to work it out."

"Doctor, that doesn't explain anything," Amy said with a sigh.

"Sure it does! Don't you see it?" he asked, looking from her to Rory. They both shook their heads. The Doctor sighed. "Okay. It eats memories. Obviously before there were people around, there weren't any memories down here, so it had to be up in space. Floating around, feeding off of people in ships and stuff—it could probably find one or two victims quite easily before it would be detected. Then it would just float off and wait for another ship. One day it got drawn to the Denaran colonists' ship but before it could attack anyone, the ship was disabled by the EM field. Since the Demon is an energy-based creature, it was affected too. So now it's stuck on the planet and it can't leave."

"Okay. That makes sense, I guess," Amy said. "But I'm still not quite sure what it is you think you've solved."

"In the past few years, the Demon's been coming out more than it used to. Now, it's coming out in the daytime. It's been doing the same thing for over two hundred years, so what's made it change?" he asked.

"What?"

"It's the cold!" the Doctor enthused. "It's freezing out in space, so the Demon has got to be able to survive in very low temperatures. And it doesn't just survive in the cold, it needs it, otherwise it would come out all year down here."

Rory's eyes widened as he picked up the Doctor's train of thought. "And Dr. Branton said that ten years ago was the coldest winter they'd ever had. So it was able to be out longer."

The Doctor beamed. "Exactly. And it took more people than it had done before."

"And that let it keep staying out longer somehow?" Amy asked. "Did the energy it got from those extra people make it stronger?"

The Doctor was grinning proudly at the pair of them. "See? I knew you'd get it in the end. Yes. That winter gave it access to more energy than it had been able to get in over two hundred years. Before that, it had been getting by on about five, maybe ten people every year. But then it got more, and it was able to grow and it started getting greedy. So the next year, it had enough strength left to come out a little earlier, stay out a little later. And it's just been building since then."

"Okay," Rory said. "But then what about today? It attacked someone in the daytime—what happened to let it do that?"

The Doctor gave him a pointed look, and Amy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Rory," she breathed.

Rory looked over at her, but she was staring at the Doctor. He'd said 'Rory the Roman'—he called him that from time to time, and so the significance of it at that moment had passed her by. But now…"It was what it got from Rory," she said quietly as the awful realization set in. The Doctor nodded solemnly.

"What do you mean?" Rory asked.

"Your memories," Amy explained, her voice a little shaky. "You had nearly two thousand years worth of memories in your head."

"Which is probably more than it had gotten from all of its other victims put together," the Doctor added gravely. "And now it's stronger than it has ever been."

Rory looked horrified. "You mean that…That woman today—that was my fault? That happened because of me?"

"No, of course it wasn't your fault," the Doctor said, narrowing his eyes in exasperation. "That wasn't what I was trying to say at all."

"But it wouldn't have happened if it hadn't gotten me first," Rory insisted. Amy scooted over closer to him and put her arm around his shoulder. He looked like he was going to be sick.

The Doctor sighed. "It's not like you walked up to the Demon and said 'Hey! I've got two millennia of memories here for you. Have at it!'" He stared at Rory until Rory looked up and met his eyes. "It's not your fault," he repeated. "This thing stole your memories, and there's nothing you could do to control what it does with that."

Rory didn't look entirely convinced, but Amy thought he looked less likely to be sick now, and after a moment he nodded in agreement. "Alright," he said. "So how are we going to stop it? I'm not letting it use what it got from me to hurt anyone else."

Pride shone in the Doctor's eyes and he patted Rory on the shoulder. "Oh, we're going to stop it. I looked into that woman's mind tonight—she had the same memories of meeting the Demon that you had, but hers were fresher, and hers were in the daylight. I could see where she met it and where she walked to get back here." He smiled a rather dangerous smile. "I know exactly where to go to find it."

"Alright," Amy said, clapping her hands together. "Let's get it. What do we need?"

The Doctor was shaking his head. "Not tonight," he said. "It's dark and it's cold, and it will have the advantage. The Demon can travel in the daylight now, but that's still out of its element. We'll go in the morning." He got to his feet. "Get some rest," he told them. "It's going to be a hell of a day tomorrow."

* * *

Rory shifted on the sofa, staring up through the dark toward the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. The image of that woman in the farmhouse kept pushing to the front of his brain. He could remember that overwhelming emptiness—a feeling of loss so deep and so sudden that his whole being just shut down. There had been colours and shapes his eyes couldn't make into images, sounds his ears couldn't turn into words, sensations his skin couldn't translate into pain or cold. Thoughts refused to form, lest they vanish like those before. Everything was swallowed up into the void where he knew he used to be. He felt ill just thinking about it, and despite what the Doctor had told him, he felt guilty that it had happened to someone else.

A humourless smile flitted across his lips in the darkness as he realized that while he could try to focus his thoughts elsewhere, there wasn't anywhere more agreeable for them to land. He had learned so many things about himself in the past few days, and right now it was making him wonder just how much more there was that he didn't know. Thinking about Amy might have helped—would have helped, earlier in the day—but now it just brought a fresh wave of guilt and a sick twisting in his gut as he remembered her shaking silently in his arms and the warmth of her tears soaking into his shirt.

With a sigh, he shifted again on the sofa and shut his eyes. The TARDIS hummed gently around him, and he got the impression it (she?) was worried about him and trying to make him feel better. Like having your mum come and sit beside your bed after you'd had a nightmare (although he couldn't remember if that had ever actually happened to him before or not). Oddly enough, it did make him feel a little bit better. His mind was still racing, though. Maybe a walk would clear his head.

Quietly, so as not to wake Amy, he grabbed his dressing gown from the end of the sofa and slipped out of the room. The TARDIS corridors were in half-light and the only sound he could hear was the gentle hum of the air vents. He wasn't sure where he would walk to—the last thing he needed was to get lost in the middle of the night—but the lights flickered in a reassuring sort of way, and he remembered the Doctor saying that the TARDIS liked him. He suddenly felt that she wouldn't let him get lost, so he picked a direction and started walking. He walked for a few minutes before the natural curves of the corridor took him by the kitchen. The Doctor stood with his back to the door, still in his tweed jacket and fussing with the tea kettle, and Rory could smell something baking. He noticed that the oven was no longer in the same place it had been that morning, and the broken window he remembered seemed to have been replaced by a bit of wall and a spice rack. He supposed if the TARDIS could move the corridors around, then rearranging the kitchen wasn't all that remarkable. (Amy was right, he was getting used to this.)

He hovered in the doorway, wondering whether he should go in or keep walking when his question was answered for him. "Ah, Rory! Hello!" the Doctor said, spinning around with a cup of tea in each hand. "Here, this one's yours," he continued, holding out a mug with a dinosaur on it. He paused before giving it to Rory. "Two sugars, no milk. Is that right?"

"Yeah, thanks," Rory answered, taking the cup. "How did you know that?"

"Old habit," the Doctor replied with a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "That's how you liked it before. And the TARDIS mentioned you were coming, to save you the trouble of asking." Rory closed his mouth. He had been about to ask that.

The Doctor began stirring a liberal amount of sugar into his own tea. "Trouble sleeping?"

Rory sat down, registering that it was not the same table they had eaten breakfast on. "Yeah," he admitted.

The Doctor sat down across from him and inclined his head, inviting him to go on.

"I just got caught up thinking about everything that's missing," Rory said, addressing his tea. "Amy's been telling me all these stories about us, when we were kids, and travelling with you and everything, and I just…She's got all these memories of who I used to be, and it's a lot to live up to. What if I can't work out how to be that man again?" He looked up at the Doctor hesitantly.

The Doctor nodded. "That is a lot of pressure," he agreed. "Rory Williams is a lot to live up to." He paused and took a sip of his tea. "You're still him, though. It shouldn't be too hard."

"Am I, though?"

"'Course you are," the Doctor assured him. "Your memories aren't really who you are, you know. Well, okay, they sort of are, but how do you think you got them in the first place? You make choices, and directly or not, those lead to events that lead to memories. The reason you make those choices runs a lot deeper than just your memories." He reached across the table and tapped Rory's chest. "What you've got in here hasn't changed." He smiled. "Take it from a man who starts his life over on a regular basis. You always end up being the same man underneath."

Rory considered this. The Doctor smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow. "You don't look convinced."

"Well," Rory began. "It sounds good. But I sort of feel like you're just saying it to make me feel better."

"Of course I'm saying it to make you feel better," the Doctor replied. "Doesn't mean it's not true." He settled back into a more comfortable position. "Remember being a plastic Roman?"

"I remember being told about it," Rory answered, a little uncertainly. He imagined the Doctor was building up to a point, but he wasn't quite following the seeming change in topic.

"Yes, well, when we told you about it, we left out some of the more…unpleasant details. Unless Amy told you about them later?" Rory shook his head. "Right. Well, you weren't just a plastic Roman, you were an Auton. A machine with false memories of being a human, programmed to kill when the Nestene Consciousness told you to."

Rory blinked in surprise. He wasn't entirely sure what a Nestene Consciousness was, but he got the gist of what the Doctor was saying. He could see why they would have skipped that bit.

"And you know what happened when it told you to?" the Doctor asked. Rory shook his head again. "You fought it," the Doctor said simply. "There was no reason for you to do that. Once the programming was activated, all the memories that let you pretend to be Rory were erased. You had been built and programmed like all the other ones. One hundred percent Nestene duplicate. But you weren't just pretending to be Rory. For reasons I still can't really explain, Rory Williams was really in there. And you came back. Admittedly, it got…rather messy, in the middle there," the Doctor went on, making a face.

Rory gathered 'messy' referred to how Amy had ended up inside the Pandorica for Rory to guard—something else they had glossed over in the original telling of the story. He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask.

"But you came back," the Doctor said again more firmly. "Even if you don't remember it, the same thing that led you back to being Rory then is still in there, and it will lead you back to being Rory now." He smiled kindly. "Just give it some time."

Rory looked down at his tea again. As he considered the Doctor's words, he couldn't help a smile creeping onto his face. And there was something…He was pretty sure that was what hope felt like. That was new. He liked it. He looked back up at the Doctor. "Thanks," he said sincerely.

The Doctor grinned. "Any time." Something dinged behind him. "Ooh, the muffins are ready!" he said, leaping up from the chair.

"It's the middle of the night," Rory said. "Why are you making muffins?"

"Why not?" the Doctor asked, opening the oven door. "I don't sleep as much as you humans do—I've got to do something to keep myself busy. And these didn't work this morning, so I'm trying again. Here, have one." He snatched a muffin from the baking tin and tossed it to Rory, who only just caught it and quickly dropped it on the table again before it burned his fingers.

Aware of the Doctor's eyes on him, Rory broke off a small piece, blew on it a few times and put it in his mouth. It tasted of bananas and nutmeg. "It's good," he told the Doctor, who seemed to be waiting for a verdict.

The Doctor grinned. "And I did it without breaking anything. Where's Amy when I'm getting things right?"


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning came rather earlier than Rory would have liked. For all that he wanted to find this creature and stop it; the thought of actually finding it terrified him. He doubted the creature would bother with him again—he had so few new memories for it to devour—but just the possibility of being emptied out once more made him sick to his stomach. He ate very little breakfast.

The other two, he noticed, seemed to be in a more solemn mood as well. Breakfast was a hurried, nearly silent affair. He supposed they had their own worries about meeting the Demon, and quite right to. They were much more appealing targets than he was.

The air outside was crisp and cool, their breath misting in the air in front of them. Overhead, the sky was cloudless and the sun shone brightly, which Rory hoped would help. Thanks to him, this creature could be out in the day time now, but the Doctor seemed to think fighting it in the daylight was better. Although how they were going to fight it was beyond Rory.

"You okay?" Amy asked, falling into step beside him. They had passed the farmhouse and were following the Doctor towards the iron gates.

"Yeah, I'm just…" He paused for a moment. No. Amy was safe. He could tell her anything. "I'm scared," he admitted.

"That's okay," Amy said. She stuck her arm through his. "I am too."

"What are we going to do?" Rory asked. "I mean, the Doctor said this thing was made out of energy. How do you fight something that doesn't have a body?"

Amy nodded. "I don't know," she admitted. "The Doctor said he had a plan, which probably means he's actually still coming up with a plan. I'm guessing he's going to be all impressive and Time Lord-y, and make up the rest as he goes."

Rory considered this. "I really don't like not having a plan," he said at last. "But it's got to work, right? I mean, if this is how the Doctor always does things, and we're all still here, he's got to know what he's doing, yeah?"

To his surprise, Amy laughed. "Sorry," she said. "It's just, you would never have said that before. Well, you would have said the bit about not liking not having a plan. But the rest of it…Well, the rest of it is something I would say. I don't know why I'm laughing at that."

"It's alright," Rory assured her. "But hopefully, today's not the day I learn why I wouldn't have said that." He was thinking again of how very wrong things could go if they did go wrong. He was already worried about the creature taking him again, but what if it got all three of them? Or what if it left him but took Amy and the Doctor? They were helping him get his life back, but he wouldn't be able to do the same for them. No, if he usually doubted the Doctor's planning, today really needed to be a day that proved him wrong.

"Alright," the Doctor said. He was standing at the edge of the road, facing the moor. Knee-high grass was swaying in the wind in a way that only too easily suggested something creeping through it. Even if you didn't know the Demon was out there, the moor still would have been unnerving. "You two ready?"

"Ready," Amy said, stopping beside him. Her arm was still around Rory's.

"Ready," Rory said, taking a deep breath.

"Here we go," the Doctor said, and stepped off the paving stones into the grass. They followed.

They walked slowly in what seemed to be an aimless path. The Doctor stopped every now and then and closed his eyes, a look of concentration on his face. Rory knew he was recalling the path he had seen in the woman's head last night. They were retracing her footsteps. Was this the way he had come as well? Rory couldn't remember.

As they meandered, the Doctor spoke, giving them an outline of his plan. It involved a lot of talk of frequencies and wavelengths and psychic energy, but the gist seemed to be that the Doctor, confident he could create a protective wall around his own memories, would be fighting this creature with his mind.

"If he's going to be fighting this thing psychically," Rory whispered to Amy. "Then why are we here? We're not psychic. Are we?"

"No, we're not," Amy said with a smile. "I don't know what help we're actually going to be, but it's not like we would have stayed behind if he told us to. Call us moral support. He needs someone to look after him."

Rory nodded in understanding. "Seems fair. He certainly looks after us well enough, doesn't he?" Of all the stories he'd been told in the past few days, he thought of how many would have ended badly if the Doctor hadn't been in them. Even just since this whole mess had begun, Rory thought of how kind the Doctor had been to him, how he had listened and known the right words to say. He was sure he had done the same for Amy too.

"Yeah, he does," Amy agreed. She squeezed his hand.

After about an hour of walking, the Doctor slowed at the top of a small rise. "It's over there," he said solemnly, pointing to where the moor ran up against a wood. From where they stood, Amy thought the wood looked like it stretched out back to where they had first landed the TARDIS. She wasn't sure if she was glad to have found it or not. For all that she hated the inactivity, she was properly scared of this Demon thing. What if it took Rory again? What if the Doctor's mental shielding wasn't as strong as he thought it was and the Demon got him? What if it got her? (She told herself that she shouldn't worry about that, as she wouldn't know any different if it did get her. That didn't help.)

"In the wood there?" Amy asked. "I thought it lived on the moor?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, it'll be in those woods. Much darker in there. The moor hems the wood in everywhere except the bit that stretches back toward the town. To get out of the wood, you have cross the moor, so you can see why people would make the mistake."

"Right. Well, let's go, then," she said. She made to start down the rise next to the Doctor.

"Wait," Rory said. He looked a bit pale. Amy knew he was afraid of meeting the Demon—probably more than she was, and with good reason. She reached back and took his hand.

"Hey, it's okay," she told him.

"No," he said. "No, it's not that." His voice was much steadier now. He turned to the Doctor. "Doctor, I don't think Amy should go in there."

"Why not?" Amy asked. Of all the times for him to remember how chivalrous he was. To her annoyance, the Doctor was nodding as if he agreed with him.

"You know, you're probably right, Rory," he said. "Good thinking."

Rory looked relieved. "Excuse me," Amy huffed. "Why am I not coming?"

"It's safer," Rory said. "The Demon can't get you if you're not there."

"What, so it's fine if it gets the two of you? I don't think so!" Amy snapped.

"It's not going to get us," the Doctor said. Amy raised a threatening eyebrow and he hurried on. "Time Lord brain, remember?" he said, tapping the side of his head. "Very impressive mental shielding. Even more impressive if I don't have to share it."

Amy blinked. "So you want me to stay here so you don't have to share your mental shielding with me, but Rory gets in on it?"

"I don't need it," Rory said softly. "It's already done me. There's nothing left for it to take. Even if it does, losing four days is nothing to losing a life time." He looked up to meet her eyes. "I'm scared of losing myself again. But I'm even more scared of losing you."

The comeback Amy had been about to make caught in her throat. She knew she could have argued and she probably would have won, but that was so…Rory. "Now that is something you would have said before," she said quietly. She stepped closer to him and put a hand to the side of his face. "I knew you were still in there." She sighed. And he was right. Of course he was. If the Doctor needed help, then Rory was the logical choice, though she hated the reason why. "Okay. I'll stay." He smiled in relief and she pulled him into an embrace. "Just come back to me, alright?" she said. "Don't make me go through the past few days again."

"I won't," he said, hugging her tightly.

She reached out a hand and snatched the Doctor's sleeve, pulling him into the hug as well. "That goes for you too," she warned. "I want both of you back here in one piece."

"When have I ever not come back?" the Doctor asked, squeezing the two of them tightly.

They consented to let Amy walk to the edge of the wood with them, and she reluctantly agreed to follow them no further.

"We shouldn't be too long," the Doctor told her. "But if we're not back by evening, give yourself enough light to get back to the TARDIS, alright? Do not, under any circumstances, come in looking for us, got it?"

Amy nodded, hoping she looked convincing. She wasn't going to make this any more dangerous by following them in now, but if they weren't back in a reasonable amount of time, she would most definitely be going to look for them. She sure as hell wasn't going to be just turning around when it got dark and leaving them there.

She grabbed Rory's hand. "Be careful, okay?" she said softly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"I will," Rory promised. "See you soon."

"Don't worry, Pond," the Doctor said. "We'll come back and we'll be fine."

Then they turned and disappeared into the woods.


	9. Chapter 9

They walked in silence for a little while. It got darker as they went further into the woods, the tree limbs blocking out more and more light until it was like walking at twilight. It was colder too. With so much shade, the snow lay deeper here than anywhere else Rory had seen, steadfastly refusing to melt. Unconsciously keeping close to the Doctor, Rory was barely able to stop from running into him when he came to a sudden halt.

"We're nearly there," the Doctor said, his voice just above a whisper.

"How can you tell?" Rory whispered back.

"Can't you feel it?" the Doctor asked.

Rory stood still, concentrating, and after a moment, he did feel it. The cold was deeper here, and the woods unnaturally and eerily silent. But there was more than that. The air around them felt…alive. It felt like it was wrapping around them, drawing them in, and Rory fought down the urge to step forward and let it lead him. "What do we do?" he whispered.

"Well, we're going in there," the Doctor said, pointing at where the air seemed to want them to go. A mist was starting to form. "Don't get near the Demon, stay behind me and do exactly what I tell you to."

"Right," Rory said with a nod. Hopefully, the Doctor's role in the plan was more complex, but that was simple enough. He could do that.

"At some point, I may need you to cause a distraction," he continued.

Rory stopped. "How am I meant to do that?"

"You'll think of something when the time comes." The Doctor turned his head to give him an encouraging smile and clapped him softly on the shoulder. "Come on."

They followed the pull of the air, and if Rory had thought the wood was quiet before, that was nothing to what it was now. He had no idea he could breathe so loudly. The mist got thicker, and then Rory felt…_something_. He hadn't remembered it until just now, but he knew this feeling. Despite the cold, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and his breathing quickened nervously. It was here. "Doctor, it's here," he whispered.

The Doctor nodded his acknowledgement. "Alright, here we are!" he announced, addressing the air above them. "You coming out then?"

A pleased, rather unpleasant chuckle resonated through the air. "So you came at last, Doctor," a raspy voice said. Rory couldn't tell if it actually spoke aloud or if he was just hearing it in his head. "I was starting to wonder. Based on what Mr. Williams thought of you, I was expecting you earlier."

The off-handed way the Demon referred to the memories it had stolen from Rory didn't seem to faze the Doctor, but Rory found it fairly chilling.

"Oh, you know, been busy," the Doctor said. "I've been cleaning up after you."

The Demon seemed to find this very amusing, and that same laugh echoed among the trees. "Yes," it said at last. "I can see that. And you brought it with you, too. You know, I've never seen one after I've finished with it." The air around Rory tingled, and he got the impression he was being assessed, much the same way one might look over a horse before buying it. "Not very impressive, is it?"

"I think you'll find that _he_," the Doctor stressed the word. "Is impressive enough in his own right, no matter what you've stolen from him."

The Demon chuckled again. "What a pity he can't remember anything. He would have enjoyed hearing that, otherwise. Not much praise for him when Amy is around, is there? Speaking of which, where is little Miss Pond? This hardly seems the sort of thing she'd miss out on."

"She's not here," Rory said, finding his voice again suddenly. "I wasn't going to let her come anywhere near you."

"So he's still clever after all," the Demon laughed. "Maybe I should take another look inside your head."

"You're not going to touch him," the Doctor said calmly. "Now, are you going to come out where we can see you? Surely you've got some sort of form we can look at while we're talking to you. It's only polite, you know."

"Forgive me my ignorance," the Demon said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "It's not often I get the chance to speak with a physical being. But if it's a form you want…" The voice trailed off as the mist began to coalesce. It shone brightly in a mass of light which was suddenly human in shape. Arms and legs and clothes appeared, followed by a face with features that were growing steadily familiar. It was semi-transparent and it shone with a soft white light, but it was definitely…

Rory swallowed hard. "Doctor, that's _me_," he whispered.

The Doctor nodded, his eyes still on the creature. "I wondered if it might do that. It's trying to unnerve you," he whispered back.

"It's working."

The Doctor turned to look at him, and though his face was serious there was something incredibly reassuring in his eyes. "Brave heart, Rory," he said softly, putting out a hand and squeezing his arm. "We can do this."

Rory nodded. They turned back to face the Demon, whose features shifted into sharp focus—the perfect image of the ghost of Rory Williams.

"How's this for a form?" it asked in Rory's voice, disturbing in its mocking tone.

"Well, it's something to look at, anyway," the Doctor conceded. "A bit insensitive, but I suppose I should have been more specific."

The Demon-Rory's face broke into a wicked grin, and Rory prayed that his face had never actually looked like that before. "So what now?" it asked. "Knowing you as I do, I get the feeling you've come here to try to stop me."

"Well, as you've said, you know me so well," the Doctor said, allowing himself a small smile and spreading out his hands. "You know I can't let this go on, but it doesn't have to be as drastic as you're imagining."

"No?" the creature asked, sounding intrigued in spite of itself.

The Doctor shook his head. "I've got a ship. The TARDIS. But then, you'll know all about that. We can come and go, unhampered by the EM field. I can take you back up into space. You'll be free to flit about and do…whatever it was you did up there before you got stuck. You'll be free, the people of Denara won't have to live in fear anymore—everyone wins!"

"Doctor," Rory whispered. "What about the people in ships it was feeding on before?"

The Doctor made a face. "Okay, so it's not a perfect scenario," he whispered back. "But I'm doing the best I can with what I've got. It can do far less damage up there than it can down here."

"You know I can hear you when you do that?" the Demon asked.

Rory looked up at the creature, startled, but the Doctor seemed unalarmed by this fact. "I know," he said. "Doesn't change my point though, does it?" The Demon inclined its head in agreement. "So what do you think?"

"You know," the Demon began. "Had you come along about two hundred years ago, I might have taken you up on that. But you're a bit late. I quite like it here."

The Doctor let out an irritated puff of air. "Really?" He sounded quite annoyed. "Of all the people I make this offer to, I would have thought you would have the sense to accept. You've got all of Rory's memories. You can see how these things always end up working out."

The Demon chuckled again. "You know, he's right," it said, nodding towards Rory. "You do think awfully highly of yourself, don't you?"

The Doctor waved off the embarrassed protest Rory was beginning. "Well, I've got good reason to, don't I? Now come on, please, take me up on this. It's better that way."

The Demon shook its head. "And why would I go back up there? I may be a little restricted down here, but what is that when there is food in such ready supply? I don't even have to hunt any more—they come to me."

"People are terrified of what you can do to them," Rory said. "Why would they come to you?"

"You did," the Demon said simply. It turned back to the Doctor. "I've learned how to call them, you see. The little humans really aren't that complicated. Even if they're afraid, I can use that to draw them in. Would you like to see?"

The air around him grew colder, and Rory, knowing full well that the Demon was in front of him, took several steps forward, unable to ignore the feeling that there was something far worse behind him.

"Stop that!" the Doctor growled. "I told you to leave him alone," he warned. His hand was clamped firmly around Rory's forearm, and he said much more gently, "Rory? Come back here with me."

Rory closed his eyes and drew in a calming breath, then backed away from the Demon until he was side by side with the Doctor. "Sorry," he said, almost steadily. "I couldn't…"

"It's alright," the Doctor said, releasing his arm. "Just concentrate on fighting it off. You know what it feels like now."

"Oh, relax," the Demon said. "I wasn't going to do anything. He's of no use to me anymore. Just proving a point."

"I can see that," the Doctor said. "Have you always been this spiteful, or has being trapped down here so long made you bitter?"

Rory couldn't help but wonder if taunting it was really a good idea, but the Demon didn't seem to mind. "My attitude towards these little physical beings hasn't changed since I came down here. On the contrary, I've learned even more about them. It makes them ever so much more fun to play with."

"Right. So just spiteful, then," the Doctor said.

"If you like," the Demon agreed with a shrug. "I don't see how it matters. Especially not to you."

"Ah," the Doctor said. "I had a feeling that was coming."

"What?" Rory asked.

"Yes, well," the Demon said. "Not much point in putting off the inevitable, and I'm really not much of one for conversation." It glanced sideways at Rory. "You might want to stand back a bit."

"What's going on?" Rory demanded.

"It's going to try to take my memories," the Doctor said, far more calmly than Rory thought was called for. "And it would seem not to want you in the way."

"Well, you're going to need someone to get you out of here after I've finished with you. I'm not completely without heart," it said. It looked suddenly thoughtful before its face broke into a cruel smile. "Well, I am, actually, not having a body, or anything. Mostly, I'm just not interested in you."

"Doctor," Rory began nervously.

"Don't worry, Rory," the Doctor said. He motioned for Rory to step back, and after a moment's consideration, he reluctantly took a few steps away. "I've got this under control," he assured him.

"Yes, I'm sure you think you do," the Demon teased.

"I think you'll find my memories will be a lot harder to get than his were," the Doctor said.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," the Demon agreed. "But they'll definitely be worth the effort. The sheer amount of memories I got from that one gave me strength I never thought I'd have," it said, nodding at Rory. "But the complexity of the memories of a Time Lord? I may never have to hibernate again."

They both fell silent then, and to Rory, it seemed all they were doing was staring at each other. He remembered the Doctor talking about fighting the creature off psychically, and he wondered if that had started. He'd imagined it looking more like…well, more like something was happening. A muscle twitched in the Doctor's face and he looked over at Rory, then back to the Demon. Then he did it again. What was he…Oh. Apparently, this was the point Rory came in.

A distraction. Right. Somehow, he didn't think waving his arms and shouting was going to do much good. "You know," Rory began, and was resolutely ignored. "Oi!" he said a bit louder. "Demon…thing. Whatever your name is. I'm talking to you." It said nothing, but spared a second to glare at him, which Rory took as a sign to continue. "I reckon all these years living down here have made you soft." He couldn't help but feel he was heading into rather reckless territory, but taunting the creature seemed to have worked for the Doctor. "I mean, how greedy can you get? Two thousand years of memories you got off me—that should be enough to last you for ages." The Demon was glaring at him again, but beside him the Doctor gave a quick nod.

"And I'm still cross about that, by the way," Rory continued. "I was using those, and, based on what I've seen of you today, you probably didn't even ask, did you? Not that I would have said yes, but that's not the point. So you're not only a greedy pig of an evil energy creature, but you're rude as well."

"Shut up, human!" the Demon snapped. It was hard to tell, since his face wasn't a real face or anything (and sort of see-through), but it seemed rather strained.

Rory laughed. "Why? What are you going to do to me?" he demanded, hoping he sounded far braver than he felt. "It's not like there's anything left for you to take."

As he'd been speaking, the Demon had been slowly reaching out an arm towards the Doctor. The Doctor had been doing the same, but both were moving as if their arms were weighted and took an enormous amount of effort to raise. "Just because I don't need anything from you doesn't mean I won't take it anyway," it hissed. "You would do well to remember that."

Rory swallowed. "Yeah, I've thought of that, thanks. Why do you think I'm still talking to you? I'm screwed if the Doctor doesn't…do whatever it is he's trying to do. I have no idea how all this psychic business works, which is why I get to do the talking. I'm trying to be annoying. I don't know if it's working—I've never been annoying before. Well, maybe I have. I'm sure I must have done—maybe that was why Amy pushed me into the bushes. I can't remember." First taunting and now rambling. He seemed to be taking a leaf out of the Doctor's book today. "That would be your fault, by the way, the not remembering. Did I mention how I was annoyed about that? So maybe it's only fair that I get to be annoying you now."

The Demon turned its head and actually snarled at Rory, which was an unsettling expression to see on such an otherwise human-looking face (not to mention it was his face). "I will drain every last thought from your head, little human," it declared. "When I have finished with you, you won't remember how to form a coherent thought, let alone stand upright."

Rory really, really hoped whatever the Doctor had planned was working, because he had no doubt that the Demon could do what it said. "I can't think of anything clever to say to that," Rory admitted. "I don't suppose it has to be clever, though, I just have to keep talking. Trouble is, with only four days worth of memories, I've not got a lot to talk about. So, I'm going to have to talk about really boring stuff now, like what I had for breakfast, and it's your own fault for having to listen to it since you took everything interesting away."

"A-ha!" the Doctor exclaimed suddenly. He was looking a bit pale, but triumphant, with one of his hands wrapped around the Demon's wrist. "Rory, that was very good, but shut up now!" he barked, and Rory gladly obeyed. He'd been speaking faster than he'd been thinking and was afraid he was going to run out of words.

The Demon looked furious, and maybe just a tiny bit concerned. "That's cheating," it hissed.

"Not cheating," the Doctor replied through clenched teeth. "Planning ahead. Not my fault you don't have a team." He swung his other arm up to grab the Demon's other wrist. The Demon seemed unable to move, and was starting to look worried (though still angry). "Gotcha," the Doctor whispered. "You should've taken that first chance."

How long they stood locked together like that, Rory couldn't say. It felt like ages, but he got the feeling it was all happening rather quickly. He had no idea what was going on, though this seemed to be an improvement. The Doctor seemed pleased, anyway. It might have been his imagination, but the Demon seemed to be a little bit blurry around the edges. Not wanting to break the Doctor's concentration, Rory kept silent, aware once more of how loud his breathing sounded.

Suddenly, the Doctor's face broke into a grin. "Oh, that is wonderful," he laughed, which Rory felt was a very odd thing to do, given the circumstances. He snapped his head around to look at Rory. "Come here," he said.

"What?" Rory asked.

He released one of the Demon's wrists and held out the free hand to Rory. "Come here and take my hand," he said.

Rory shook his head. Don't get near the Demon. His instinct would have told him that much, even if the Doctor hadn't explicitly said those words. A horrible thought occurred to him—what if the Demon was actually winning, and it was trying to trick him? He couldn't tell by looking at them—they both seemed equally strained by the battle.

All traces of the Doctor's earlier smile had gone, and it seemed to be taking rather a great amount of effort for him to keep speaking. "Rory, come here!" he snapped.

Rory opened his mouth, but found no words. He was supposed to do what the Doctor said, but could he trust this?

"Rory Arthur Williams, if you never listen to me again in your life, just do what I am telling you right now!" he shouted. Sweat was pouring from his hair, and the Demon's face was twitching as if it was in pain. "Give. Me. Your. Hand," the Doctor ordered. And Rory did.

Then his brain exploded.


	10. Chapter 10

Someone was calling his name. It echoed softly, as if coming from a great distance, but as soon as he was aware of it, it seemed to grow in strength. He didn't want it to do that, and he grunted softly, raising a tired hand to wave the offending sound away. He wanted to go back to sleep. The voice was having none of it.

"Rory?" it said again, more urgently this time. Louder as well. "Rory!"

"What?" he moaned, his voice rasping in his throat as he dragged the word out. He forced his eyes open, squinting at a blur of shapes. One of the shapes started to solidify until the Doctor was crouched beside him, hovering a few inches from his face and looking very worried. "What…?" he started and stopped. Words were difficult at the moment and he was suddenly aware that he was lying in the snow. It was wet and very cold. "What happened?" he tried again.

"Can you sit up?" the Doctor asked.

Rory made a noise of assent and allowed the Doctor to slowly pull him into a sitting position, leaving one hand on his back to steady him. Near to, he noticed that the Doctor was looking rather peaky. "You look awful," he croaked.

"Thank you," the Doctor said. "I doubt I look half as bad as you do. Are you okay?"

Rory considered before shaking his head slowly. Immediately regretting the action, he winced and shut his eyes. "My head is killing me," he said. The Doctor seemed a bit calmer now that Rory was speaking, but he still looked concerned. Was it him he was worried about? He tried to remember what might have happened to make the Doctor so worried, but his brain protested the effort. "What happened?" he asked again.

"Oh, you know, fought a psychic battle with a memory-stealing energy being. Stuff like that."

"Right." The details were a little fuzzy, but Rory recalled the encounter with the Winter Demon. Most of it, anyway. Looking down in hopes of easing the pressure in his head, Rory's eyes settled on his jeans. The denim was wet, probably from all this snow, with dirt ground into it and a rip travelling almost the width of his knee. He watched the flap of fabric move up and down gently in the breeze. Amy was going to be cross about that. She had a habit of complaining about TARDIS life being hell on their wardrobes, and she'd only bought these for him last time she'd been out shopping, even making a joke to the saleswoman about running away from aliens. Wait, how did he…? He snapped his head up to look at the Doctor, adrenaline shoving away the pain. "I remember."

"That's good," the Doctor said, still looking worried. "That was just a few minutes ago, so I was hoping you would…"

"No," Rory interrupted. "I remember," he said pointedly.

The Doctor stared at him for a long moment. Then the penny dropped and a massive grin spread across his face. "Ha! It worked!" he crowed. "It worked!" Beaming, he grabbed Rory's head with both hands and pulled him forward, planting a delighted kiss on his forehead. Rory was so pleased to have his memories back that he didn't bother to swat him away as he normally would have done. The Doctor sat back, still smiling. "Oh, I'm good," he told Rory. "I'm very good."

"You got my memories back?"

"I did," the Doctor nodded, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"How?"

"Well," the Doctor explained. "Once I made contact with the Demon—which would have been much harder without you distracting him, well done—I realized that your memories were all still in there. It was using them, so it kept them all intact. Since they were all still together, I was able to pull them out and put them back in you. That was why I needed your hand—I had to have physical contact to make the link."

"So it's all back?"

"All 1,946 years of it," the Doctor said.

"Thank you," Rory said. The Doctor made a gesture as if to say it was nothing. "No really, thank you," Rory repeated earnestly. He didn't just remember his old life, but everything that had happened in the four days since he'd lost it as well. "I…" His voice was suddenly shaky, overcome with gratitude.

"You're welcome," the Doctor said sincerely, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling warmly. "Shall we go and give Amy the good news?"

"Yeah," Rory said with a smile, and the Doctor jumped up, grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. Spots swam across his vision, and the moment he was upright and the Doctor's hand was off his arm, he crumpled to the ground again.

"Oh," the Doctor said, making a face. "Right. Sorry. Let's try that again. I'll hold on this time, shall I?"

Rory grunted in agreement and the Doctor grabbed him under the arms and pulled him slowly up, hooking one of Rory's arms over his shoulder. When he was standing again, the Doctor wrapped his free hand around Rory's waist to steady him. "Better?" he asked.

Rory nodded. His vision had gone blurry again and his head was spinning, but he felt secure enough. "Why…?" he began, knowing the Doctor would fill in the rest of the question.

The Doctor shifted Rory's arm a bit and began to walk slowly. Rory's feet followed along automatically. "Your brain is sort of overloading at the moment. Nothing's really working properly," he explained.

"That sounds bad," Rory said.

"Oh, no, it's not," the Doctor assured him. "It's like…" He trailed off, searching for an appropriate metaphor. "It's like when you're in a dark room and you step out into the sun, and you can't see for a bit because your eyes are adjusting to the light. That's what your brain's doing."

When it was put that way, it didn't sound as bad. "Okay."

"Your brain has had a lot thrown at it in a very short time," the Doctor continued. "It took you years and years to get all of those memories and now they've been thrust back in in a matter of seconds. Also," he added, sounding slightly sheepish. "I was in a bit of a rush, so I just sort of chucked everything in all at once instead of putting it back where it's supposed to be, so your brain's trying to sort through it all. It's diverting energy away from things like remembering how to walk or stand up, and using it to process what you've just gotten back. Give it the chance to do that, and then you'll be fine," he assured him.

"Right."

"I should also probably mention that once this adrenaline rush wears off, it's very likely that you're going to pass out," the Doctor warned. "It'll be easier for your brain to reorganize everything if you're unconscious."

"Good to know," Rory said, unable to keep a touch of sarcasm out of his voice.

"Don't worry," the Doctor assured him with a smile. "I'll catch you."

"Thanks." His vision was clearing up again and he noticed they were getting to a thinner part of the woods. In the better light, the lack of colour in the Doctor's face was even more pronounced. He looked as tired as Rory felt, which couldn't be good. "Doctor, are you okay?"

"Ever the nurse," the Doctor said with a fond chuckle. "I'm fine." Rory raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Really. Psychic battles are very draining, but I'm just tired. All I need is a good sleep," the Doctor assured him. "And maybe some tea. No, tea first, a couple of Jammie Dodgers, and then sleep."

"That sounds really good," Rory said, focusing on keeping his eyes open and his feet moving. Yes, sleep sounded wonderful.

The Doctor smiled. "Well, if you fall asleep before we get back to the TARDIS, you can have your Jammie Dodger after."

* * *

Amy looked down nervously at her watch. It hadn't even been an hour since they'd gone into the woods. Was that too long? Should she be worried? Stupid question—she'd been worried before they went in. And the Doctor telling her not to worry was seldom a reason to actually do so. Right. However long it took to fight an energy being, it had been long enough. She sprang to her feet and stepped toward the wood. Before she got to the bottom of the rise where she'd been sitting and watching the trees, the Doctor and Rory stepped out into the sunlight.

She broke into a run, smiling in relief to see them both. She stopped smiling when she got closer—they were alive, and they didn't have the dazed sort of look that would suggest they'd lost their memories, but they looked dreadful. The Doctor's face was ashen, with dark circles under his eyes. Rory looked almost as pale as the Doctor, and the way the Doctor was holding on to him and the way his feet dragged clumsily across the ground told her he was having a good deal of trouble walking.

"Doctor! Rory!" she called as she approached them. "What happened?"

They looked up at the sound of her voice and she came to a stop in front of them. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" she demanded, reaching out a hand.

"Amy!" Rory said, smiling widely. He pushed himself off of the Doctor and swung his weight forward, catching himself with both hands on her shoulders. He pulled her into a crushing hug and she stumbled a bit before finding her footing to support the weight of him leaning against her. She hugged him back, registering that he was wet and rather dirty. He remembered her, though. That was good. The Demon hadn't gotten him, then, but what had they done to get in such a state?

She pulled back slowly, making sure to keep a firm grip on him, as he still seemed rather wobbly. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Absolutely brilliant," he told her with a slightly manic grin. Before she could respond he leaned forward and was kissing her the way he had when she'd come out of the Pandorica, a deep, longing, desperate and overjoyed kiss that left her with no thought but to get her arms around him as fast as she could and never _ever_ let him go.

Though she could have gone on kissing him forever, at last the need for air forced her to pull away. "Rory," she said with a breathless smile. She didn't mind it in the least, but where had that come from? "What…?"

"Amy," he said, still smiling and struggling to catch his own breath. "It's me. I'm back." She wasn't quite following him. "I remember," he told her.

"You…" She trailed off, speechless. Her mouth gaping, she turned to the Doctor for confirmation, and he nodded, smiling proudly. An unbelieving smile spread across her own face as she turned back to Rory. "You remember?" she whispered.

"Everything," he said. "It's all back."

She put up a hand to the side of his face and looked deep into his eyes. He really was there—the way he used to look at her (the way he'd always looked at her), the hint of the old soul that lingered in the depths of his eyes—he was her Rory again. Happy tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. "You're back," she said with a watery smile.

"I'm back," he repeated, grinning from ear to ear. He was starting to sway even as he held on to her, and all of a sudden his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed in a heap in the grass.

She squeaked in alarm and darted forward, but the Doctor was already there. He had caught Rory by the arms before his head hit the ground, and lowered him down gently the last few inches. "You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Rory said. "You did catch me," he added, sounding a bit surprised.

"No, that's not 'fine'," Amy protested. "What—?"

The Doctor cut her off. "In a minute." He was moving to pull Rory back to his feet, but Rory waved him away.

"Actually," Rory said a bit blearily. "I think I should probably just stay down here."

"Why?" Amy demanded.

" 's not as far to fall," he slurred before his eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

"Rory?" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him. "Doctor, what—?"

"He's fine, Amy," the Doctor assured her, waving his sonic screwdriver back and forth over her husband. She gave him a deadly glare that demanded he start explaining very quickly, and he hurried on. "Okay, yes, he is unconscious, but I was expecting that. It's actually quite helpful, because his brain can get back in order faster this way." He turned to her with a smile. "Technically, he should have done this earlier, but he was so excited about seeing you again that the adrenaline kept him going."

"So this is helpful unconsciousness?" Amy asked, still rather sceptical. The Doctor nodded. "Mm-hmm. So, tell me what's going on. He looks awful. So do you, by the way. What happened in there?"

"It's quite a long story," the Doctor began.

She moved to cradle Rory's head in her lap and gestured down at him. "Well, we're not going anywhere, are we?"

"True," the Doctor agreed, sitting down next to her in the grass. He launched into an explanation of their trek through the wood and finding the Demon, telling her how it had taunted them by taking on Rory's image. "Actually, that turned out to be quite useful. Not that it looked like Rory, but that it pulled together into a body. Its energy was all focused into one spot, which made it much easier for me to deal with." He continued, mentioning how he had taken advantage of Rory distracting the creature to ferret out its vulnerable spots and slip past its psychic barriers, and how he had found Rory's memories still intact inside the Demon and managed to get them back into Rory's head.

"So," Amy interrupted. "If Rory got his memories back, does that mean everyone else did as well?"

The Doctor's smile faded. "No," he said. "I was only able to put Rory's back because he was actually there to receive them. I couldn't have held on to any of the other memories long enough to track down who they belonged to and physically put them back—would have fried my brain. Even Rory's—well, especially Rory's, as many as there are—if he hadn't been right there, I wouldn't have been able to put them back." He looked down sadly at his shoes.

Amy sighed. She wished she hadn't brought it up—she knew how much it hurt him not to be able to save everyone. She reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly. "You stopped it. It's not going to be able to do this to anyone, ever again. And you saved Rory." The happy tears were back, trickling from the corners of her eyes. She made no attempt to stop them. "You gave him back to me. Thank you."

He looked down at Rory, then up and her with a small smile. "I did, didn't I? I guess that counts for something." His voice didn't sound exactly steady either.

"You bet it does," she assured him, pulling him into a sideways hug and kissing the top of his head. She ruffled his hair before pushing him upright again, and he tried to act affronted as he brushed it back into place. "So what happened next?" she asked.

"Well," he said. "I was already well into the Demon's mind by then, and taking Rory's memories out of it had quite a destabilizing effect. It left a hole, if you will, and I was able to push at the edges of the hole and make it bigger. That pushed all of the energy it had gotten from stolen memories apart, and eventually it was far enough that the bits started losing contact with each other and they just drifted further and further apart until they broke and it just sort of dispersed. And since it was made of energy, well, there was nothing left."

"So why do you look so terrible?" Amy asked. "Rory, you've explained, but I still don't understand what happened to you."

"I've just told you, Pond," the Doctor sighed. "I'll admit, describing a psychic battle doesn't sound like an awful lot, but it is exhausting. All the bits of energy didn't want to be pushed apart—that took a lot of work. And I had to fight the whole time to keep the Demon from getting into my head. And I had to make sure I got all of Rory's memories and see that there weren't anyone else's mixed in, and then I had to put them back in his head." He sighed again. "I am absolutely knackered."

Amy smiled. "You must be tired. I don't think you've ever admitted that you needed so much as a nap."

"Just because I sleep less than you doesn't mean I don't sleep," he huffed.

Amy laughed. She looked down at Rory, absently running her fingers through his hair. "I think we're going to be here a while. Go on and lie down if you want."

The Doctor gave her an incredulous look. "I'm not sleeping out here," he informed her. "It's muddy, the grass is itchy, and it's very cold."

"It is quite cold," Amy agreed. Rory was wet from the melted snow and though the grass sheltered them very slightly from the wind, she didn't think it would do much good. She didn't want him getting sick, or the Doctor either (who was just as wet as Rory and who made an awful patient), and she didn't really fancy sitting out in the cold much longer. "So, what, are we going to carry Rory back to the TARDIS?"

"I suppose we'll have to. He couldn't have passed out nearer the TARDIS," the Doctor sighed. "It's a bit far, and he's awfully heavy for being that skinny. Ow!"

Amy had just smacked him on the shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11

Rory woke up in his own bed back on the TARDIS. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten there. It didn't trouble him greatly, the not knowing. He did remember snow and cold mud, so however he ended up here, it was a vast improvement.

Turning his head to one side he saw Amy, still in her jeans, jumper and boots and lying on top of the blankets, but cuddled up against his side. He shifted a bit to put an arm around her and she blinked awake. "Hey, you," she said softly, lifting her head so she could see his eyes.

"Hi," he replied.

"How're you feeling?" she asked, rubbing a hand across his chest.

"Much better," he told her, grabbing her hand and kissing her fingertips. "Sorry for blacking out on you back there. I didn't fall on you, did I?"

"No," she said with a smile. "You did scare the hell out of me, but no, you fell on the grass."

"Sorry," he said sincerely. He hated making her worry.

"Well, apparently, your brain was recalibrating, so I'll let it slide this time," she said, stretching up to give him a quick kiss and then snuggling down onto his shoulder. "Just don't go making a habit of it."

They said nothing for a while, simply holding on to one another and enjoying being back where they were supposed to be. Rory couldn't believe he'd almost lost this. "You are the most amazing person ever, you know that?"

"I know," Amy teased.

"No, I really mean it," he said earnestly, looking down into her eyes. "These past few days, I…I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't…I can't even begin to think how you did it."

Amy was quiet for a long moment. "It wasn't easy," she said at last. "I…" She sighed. "I thought that I'd really lost you, and there were times I honestly didn't think I could do it. I cried a lot when you weren't looking," she admitted very quietly.

He closed his eyes as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He pulled her in closer, resting his head on top of hers and placing a protective hand around the back of her head. "Oh, Amy," he whispered sadly into her hair. "Amy, I am so sorry."

"Don't be," she said thickly. The arm she had wrapped around his chest squeezed him tighter. "I was so scared, but it…it wasn't your fault."

"It still happened though, didn't it?" he said. "Just knowing that I put you through that…"

"You could have put me through a lot worse and I wouldn't have gone anywhere," she declared, pulling out of the embrace and propping herself up on his chest to look him in the eye. Her eyes were watery, though no tears were falling, but her voice was firm. "The universe should have learned by now that there is not a thing it can do to make me stop loving you." She leaned forward and kissed him soundly. "You are so stuck with me," she added with a smile. "Not even forgetting who I am can get you out of it."

Rory smiled at her, his own eyes glistening. "Amazing isn't even the right word for you," he said. "It's nowhere near good enough. I love you so much."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "You know, I think four days is the longest I have ever gone without hearing that," she told him.

He pulled her forward and kissed her again. "Well then," he said, kissing her cheek. "I'd better make up for that, hadn't I?" He kissed her on the ear, then again a bit lower, and again on down her neck.

She returned the kiss, then pushed herself up with a reluctant sigh. "Oh, I will definitely be letting you do that later," she said with a suggestive smile. "But right now it might be best if we mind the company."

She nodded to the other side of the room, and Rory couldn't stop a small start of surprise at seeing the Doctor sprawled out on the sofa. His shoes were off, stripey socks sticking out from under the pastel butterfly quilt, a book lay open on his chest and a plate of half-eaten Jammie Dodgers and an empty cup of tea sat on the floor just underneath his dangling hand. He was fast asleep.

"Has he been there this whole time?" Rory asked.

Amy nodded. "Well, except for a few minutes when he left to tell the Denarans the Demon was gone. He's been asleep for hours, though. D'you know he snores?"

Rory didn't find that terribly surprising. "Why is he sleeping in our room?"

"He was worried about you," Amy said affectionately. "Wanted to be here in case anything went wrong."

Rory shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. "We've really been making a habit out of this the past four days. We're going to have to completely retrain him, aren't we?"

"He is over 1,200 years old," Amy said with a laugh. "He really should be able to get it down by now." Kicking off her shoes, she peeled off one sock, balled it up, and chucked it across the room, hitting the Doctor in the face. "Oi! Raggedy man!" she called.

The Doctor started at the sound, flailed rather awkwardly as he came awake and flung the sock to the ground with a look of disgust. "There is no call for dirty laundry, Pond," he told her sternly, picking up his book from where it had fallen to the floor. His eyes landed on Rory, noticing that he was awake. "Rory!" he beamed. "Awake at last! You alright, then?" He crossed the room in two long strides and plopped down on their bed with a bounce.

"I'm fine," Rory said, swatting away the sonic screwdriver the Doctor was buzzing in his face. "What do you mean 'at last'?"

"You've been asleep for nearly eighteen hours," the Doctor said. "You had a lot of memories to sort out, but I didn't think it was going to take that long."

"Eighteen hours?" Rory repeated.

Amy nodded. "But he's all fine now, yeah?" she asked the Doctor.

"Should be," the Doctor said. "I mean, he was fine before, but he's even more fine now. See?" He held up the sonic, which no doubt was meant to be displaying some sort of information, but looked no different than it ever did.

"Yeah," Amy said, and Rory could tell she was just humouring him.

"Is there anything to eat?" Rory asked. Properly awake now—and realizing how long he'd been out—he was suddenly ravenously hungry.

"There's always something to eat," the Doctor said. "Well, except when the pantry gets lost, but that hasn't happened in ages. I'm pretty sure it was there this morning. What do you want?"

"I could eat just about anything at this point. Although, I seem to recall being promised a Jammie Dodger," Rory said.

The Doctor threw his head back and laughed, Amy rolled her eyes, and Rory smiled contentedly, just glad to be home.


End file.
